


The Queen's Pet

by Caden_Parker



Series: Queen & Her Rebel [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Dysfunctional Relationships, Extremely Slow Burn, F/F, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Mistress/Slave Relationship, Original Character(s), Smut, Swan Queen - Freeform, The Enchanted Forest, There's alot of sex but I swear there's a reason for it, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-14 16:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11211861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caden_Parker/pseuds/Caden_Parker
Summary: Emma is the outspoken leader of the Revolution – citizens in the Queen’s domain looking to rise against her and demand equal treatment. Captured and brought to the Queen for instigating a riot, a decree is made: The rebel shall be the Queen's slave. Death seems preferable, at first. That is until the blonde begins to understand the frayed strings of The Evil Queen's blackened heart and shattered psyche.  Is she capable of loving a woman who has forgotten how to be human? More than that, is she capable of letting herself be loved?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I don’t own ‘Once Upon A Time.’ This story is an Enchanted Forest AU, containing the following: F/F sex, consensual and non-consensual scenes, and mentions of M/F rape. All together a very dark fic, with the possibility of light at the end of the tunnel. If any of the previously mentioned things bother you, do not read this.

                                                            

 

_The course of True Love never did run smooth.”_

~William Shakespeare

 

I eyed the creature at my feet with distaste. Dirty blonde hair spilled from a forcefully bent head onto the clean stones of my throne room, hiding a face and strong-looking shoulders beneath it. Judging by her clothes, (I could tell by her stature), she was not one of the obscenely poor, but more likely a thief. She wore a white tunic, plain and ripped, with homespun trousers and boots. My guard’s hand tightened on her wrists, and an indignant growl was issued in response.

“Show me her face,” I commanded. The fair head snapped up, pulled roughly by the back of the neck, and my eyes met fiery green. I took note of the absolute hatred I found there, and shivered; such passion hadn’t been directed at me for some time. My life was full of meek-hearted fools with sense enough to keep that look from their eyes, which, all in all, made my days dull indeed. This one, however, had no sense of self-preservation. Righteous anger seemed to take its place. “What is her crime?”

“I spoke,” the girl spat, blood-infused spittle leaving her mouth and landing in front of my throne. The hand at her neck squeezed, and I watched in pleasure as she brought rope-bound hands up to try and pry away the hard fingers at her throat. This girl clearly had a death wish.

“Let the urchin speak, Graham,” I said with an amused twitch of my lips. I watched, waited as the rebel’s pale cheeks turned from a beautiful flushed red to their normal color. Again those cutting emerald eyes found mine, and white began to show on her thin pink lips as she bit them in defiance, uncaring of the blood that dripped down her chin. “Speak, girl, or I will remove the luxury of your tongue completely,” I threatened lowly.

“I give voice to those too afraid to speak. The people of this kingdom are not pawns! They are sick are starving and deserve to be given a chance, yet they are given nothing, and leave this world exactly as they entered it: in poverty. And as for the slaves in your realm, they are taken from their families like cattle! Surely you must see the injustice in that!” I smirked at her impassioned speech. Rising from my throne, I stepped down and knelt before the young rebel, my short black nails grazing her cheek.

“I care nothing for the filth you associate with,” I murmured and then laughed, “Your words won’t move me, girl. Have you forgotten to whom you speak? I am the _Evil_ Queen, dear. Petty morals hold no qualms for me. To think of your rebels rising up against me is laughable.” I leaned in, pressed my lips to the shell of her ear, and whispered: “They would not survive past the gate.” She jerked away from the touch on her cheek, gritting her teeth. “Do you know the punishment for instigating a riot against your Queen?” I asked, grasping her chin firmly as my dark eyes bore into hers.

“Death,” she answered heavily.

“Yes,” I hissed, and touched her bleeding lip with my thumb. She winced but held my gaze. “But, you have such a pretty face… It would be a waste to see your head on a pike. So,” I chuckled, “In lieu of such a bloody and pointless end, I offer you an alternative.” The girl raised a yellow brow in question, but did not comment. “ _Now_ you value your tongue?” I laughed darkly, “Good. A body slave with no tongue has no business within these walls.” Her eyes widened, and a feral grin found its way to my mouth. _Oh, I’m going to enjoy this_ , I thought, bringing my hand to her cheek again and letting my short black nails drag down the smooth skin.

“I’d rather die,” she bit out, her eyes narrowing as she replaced fear with anger.

“Truly, dear? Well, unfortunately for you, you no longer have a choice in the matter,” I said brightly, patting her cheek as I stood. Her spit landed on my cheek seconds later. Graham moved to strike her, but I held up my hand, halting his movements. I wiped the pink substance away with a flick of my fingers and smiled cruelly. “Such a naughty little wench. We’ll cure that soon enough.” I looked to my guard, “Take her to the dungeon. Suspend her, and see that she receives no food or water for three days. I am sure she will be far more willing as a result.” He nodded and hauled the struggling captive to her feet, dragging her from the room.

***

For three days I asked the same question: _“Is the fire still in her eyes?_ ” Graham nodded, the practiced reply of _‘Yes, Your Majesty_ ’ readily leaving his lips. That was the most important thing – the key element to the girl’s survival. If the girl lost her fire, she became useless to me, boring and regrettably disposable. Given the spark of interest she’d ignited, I was sorely pleased to learn that wasn’t the case. My guard’s reassurances were enough to pacify me, and so upon hearing his reply, I would dismiss him and busy myself with mind-numbing pursuits, lest the image of sharp green eyes appear again in my thoughts.

Riding, above all else, was the one activity that brought me closest to the emotion referred to as joy. It gave a sense of forgetfulness, and, for a time, I was unperturbed by my demons. Mother had always detested my riding. _‘It’s frivolous, Regina'_ , she’d said, _‘A Queen should not waste her time with such a thing_.’ I smirked and forced my Friesian stallion, Arion, into a canter with a press of my knees. Mother probably rolled in her grave every time I picked up the reins. That thought brought a pleasing flutter to my stomach. _You should be happy, Mother. I am exactly the person you made me; your selfish, sadistic 'Little Queen_.' I smiled and let lose a dark bark of a laugh; the sound lost itself on the wind.

I headed back at noon, my growling stomach and position of the sun reminding me to take my mid-day meal. Graham met me at the stables as I dismounted, and one of the stable hands, Michael, came and led Arion away. “How is she?” I demanded, wiping beads of sweat from my forehead with a silken rag I kept in my breast pocket.

“Her fire remains, Your Majesty, but it dwindles with thirst and hunger.”

I nodded. “She endures well.”

My guard nodded, his deep blue eyes giving away no information. “Yes, Your Majesty. Will you see her?”

“Yes. Have Felicia draw my bath.” With a salute, he went off to do my biding. Magicking myself to the Hall, I walked to the kitchens, my riding crop tapping against my leather trousers as I went. “Agatha!” I bellowed as I entered, greeted with the scene of a steam-filled room as my scullery maids piped water into stone sinks, washing dishes.

“M’lady?” The elderly woman looked up, her light eyes meeting mine for a heartbeat before falling again to the cutting board and knife in her hands. She was chopping carrots. I pointed a gloved finger at one of the bubbling cauldrons above the cooking fires. “Stew,” I ordered. “Hardy. Have a pot brought to my study in two hours, along with fresh water.” The head cook nodded, a quick ‘Aye, M’lady’ leaving her mouth as she moved to the fire and scrapped the carrots off of the wooden board and into the pot with her knife.

By the time I reached my bath chamber, which was adjacent to my bed chamber, my bath was ready and steaming. Sunlight streamed through the large arched windows, and Felicia, the timid, mouse-like handmaiden, was in the process of filling my basin in the far corner of the room. She nearly dropped the pitcher when she heard me enter. I rolled my eyes. _Meek-hearted fool_. She acknowledged my presence with a slight curtsy and I waved the insipid woman away. Beside the tub stood a small iron table, soap, oils, and a freshly pressed red towel sat atop it. Stripping the tailored black jacket and white silk shirt, I dropped the garments to the floor and kicked off my boots, moving closer to the large brass tub. As I discarded the rest of my clothing, sank into the scented water awaiting me, and untied my wind-swept hair, I wondered of the rebel in my dungeon.

Knowing that she still retained her ire, despite the trial that I was currently putting her through, impressed me immensely. Many a time had I done this, with lesser women too weak to withstand me, and many a time Graham had reported that words of mercy had fallen from their lips. I scoffed now at the idea of them, the sniveling ones annoyed me. So, in retaliation for their causing me irritation, I killed them, taking pleasure in their wide eyes right before I crushed their pathetic hearts. Not all of them suffered this fate, however. Some made it through, and the select few who did served me well. I rinsed the oils from my hair and bit my lip thoughtfully, _Though, the girl intrigues me more than they ever did…_ I was convinced it was her eyes, the fact that she had the audacity to look at me instead of bowing her head, the fact that she presented a _challenge_. It was inexplicable really, why the blonde’s angry gaze had such a profound effect on me, and while I could not answer that disconcerting question, I did know that anger, when infused with sex, made a heady combination. I throbbed shamelessly at the thought of those green eyes peering up at me, wide with lust instead of narrowed with hatred, but still holding tampered fire. A thought pushed its way to the forefront of my mind as I magicked myself dry, foregoing the towel in my haste to be in the rebel’s presence – her name. Three days within my realm, and still I did not know the girl’s name! How could I have overlooked something so trivial? I made it a point to know the names of every person within my castle, lest punishment need to befall them, and yet I had forgotten myself and administered the blonde’s sentence beforehand. I found myself hoping it was something strong, something rich to match the girl’s liveliness. If not I would simply have to rename her.

Settling on a large-shouldered red velvet dress with a black corset, I readied myself and, with a flick of my wrist, disappeared in a cloud of deep purple smoke.

***

Darkness and dank met me as I appeared before my captive. I frowned, appalled by the scent. Waving my hand, the room came alive with flickering light, the sconces revealing the girl’s bowed head. She raised it wearily, and as soon as her bleary gaze registered my presence, the eyes which had enraptured me turned to emeralds. Smirking, I stepped closer and wrapped an arm around her dangling figure, held in place by iron shackles. Her feet hung a foot from the ground. “Hello, rebel,” I cooed, able to press my lips to her ear due to the high boots I wore.

“Come to kill me at last, have you?” she questioned in a voice that cracked from lack of use.

I laughed humorlessly. “No, dear. I told you, your head is much too valuable to take. I have come –” I paused, nipping at an earlobe and palming a modestly-sized breast through her thin tunic, squeezing, “– to _tame_ you.” Again she pulled away, acting as though my touch burned her. I hummed and tightened my hold about her waist, pulling back and sneering up into her eyes. “You are the damnedest creature,” I murmured. “I’ll enjoy taming you.” All I received in answer was a glare and the same defiant set of the girl’s jaw. “I do so love that fire in your gaze,” I purred, twisting her left nipple between my pointer finger and thumb. “Should I pluck those volatile eyes from your pretty little head? Wear them about my neck, perhaps?” Genuine fear flickered across the rebel’s features, and then slowly dissipated into resoluteness.

“If you wish, _Majesty_ ,” she ground out, venom accentuating every word.

My eyes narrowed. “If you wish to die for the sole purpose of escaping me, I’m afraid you will be disappointed. No, instead…” I snaked my hand beneath her tunic, raking my nails down her ribs and watching as she twisted within my grasp, licking my lips at the sight – “You shall be mine, body and soul.” She opened her mouth to protest, to no doubt proclaim that she belonged to no one, but faltered and lowered her eyes, jaw still clenched, as hunger and tiredness won out against pride. I smiled. “Good girl,” I husked in her ear, my teeth nipping lightly at the skin beneath my mouth. Snapping my fingers, the chains around my slave’s wrists disappeared, and she slumped into my embrace. Holding to her tightly, I waited until she became accustomed to her bearings once more. “Can you stand?” I breathed against her lips. When a very nearly imperceptible nod was given, I released her, and watched as she stepped back, rubbing her chafe wrists. Her face shone with sweat and dirt, her lip had dried to a scab, and her hair was lank and dark, almost brown with grease. When washed, I was sure it would gleam like spun gold.

With that thought in mind, I magicked us to my bath chamber, steadying the girl with a touch to her bicep as she faltered due to the transportation spell. “The disorientation will wear with time,” I informed her, watching as she took in her surroundings. When her gaze found mine again, I stepped back, and magically refilled the tub with hot water, impatient to see the body of my new toy. “Bathe,” I commanded. Again the narrowed eyes, but no verbal rebuttal as she turned her back and began to tug at the laces of her tunic. I summoned a chair with a wave of my hand, straight-backed and imposing. Taking a seat, my gaze fell on the slightly trembling fingers pulling at the hem of the rebel’s shirt.

“Face me.” She turned, head bowed not in submission, I surmised, but in shame. “Look at me.” Again the girl’s jaw clenched and she did not raise her head. I pulled on my magic, forcing the blonde’s neck back.”When a direct order is given, you will follow it, slave,” I hissed, watching as the word had the desired effect and I heard the faint grinding of teeth. I knew that to label the young woman as mine would accomplish two things within the breaking process: One, affirm her role, and two, give thought to the fact that she had to submit. To take away the freedom of a strong-willed one pleased me greatly; it made the breaking that much more satisfying. “Strip. _Slowly_.” I released the hold on the girl’s neck, and settled myself back into the chair, a smirk playing on my painted lips and my legs crossed at the thigh.

Begrudgingly, she complied. Noticing her inaudible but visible gulp, I smiled internally. A creamy torso was reveled to me, toned muscles made up the rebel’s stomach, and I licked my lips at the sight, making a show of my tongue’s movements, which produced a heated blush on the blonde’s milky skin. Strong, well-defined arms, sturdy shoulders. Though she was fit, she did retain a barely detectable feminine curve, and her breasts, now on display, were capped with pink nipples that I instantly wanted between my teeth. Her hands were long and pleasing to look at as the veined skin moved to work the ties of her trousers free. Simultaneously, she kicked her worn boots off. Her hips held a soft curve, more so than the top part of her body, but not so much so that she was disproportioned. I eyed her sex hungrily as a patch of well-trimmed hair came into view, and followed the decent of the cloth down her long legs, until her trousers pooled at her feet and she stepped out of them. During this interaction, she hadn’t met my gaze after the flush I’d created. I’d reprimand her for that another time, but as of now my mind and eyes were feasting on what was before me. She truly was beautiful.

“Turn,” I commanded. The sight of her muscled back and small, but shapely ass was enough to make me salivate as I thought of the delicious red handprints I planned to leave on the wonderfully unmarked flesh. _Yes_ , I thought, _She will do nicely… Very nicely indeed_. “Bathe. I will have my girl Felicia tend to you. You have until I call for you.” With that, I stood and turned on my heel, going to my study to review the trade documents that had found their way to my desk that morning.

***

When the girl was presented to me again, she wore the simple white cotton shift all my body slaves procured upon first entering my chambers. It came to mid-thigh and showcased her toned but slender legs relatively well. I decided I rather liked her in white; it did not give her a drab appearance, as I had thought it might given her complexion, but somehow enhanced the natural rose color in her cheeks and made her hair shine all the brighter. Putting aside the document I’d been reading, I dismissed Felicia with a nod and beckoned the rebel forward with a crook of my finger. Her strides were long and graceful, bare feet padding over the Persian rugs in my study and head held high. I turned in my velvet chair. “Kneel,” I ordered, pointing to the vacant space between my knees. She did as I commanded, though the tension in her shoulders told me she was fighting her very nature. Taking a fistful of wonderfully golden hair, I jerked the girl’s head back, enjoying the sight of strained corded muscles jump as she swallowed. Lowering my mouth, I nipped at the blonde’s pulse, my teeth sinking in just enough to cause a gasp of pain before I soothed the burning with a hard suck, effectively marking her. “Tell me,” I murmured as I pulled back and looked into piercing eyes, my fingers still clutching at yellow curls, “Would you still prefer death to my touch?” The question was entirely rhetorical, for she would be mine regardless of the answer, but I wanted her reply nonetheless.

“I’d still welcome death, if only I had a full stomach.” She spoke truthfully, I knew, and so at that moment I chose to ignore her effrontery. Her gaze conveyed tiredness and anger at her predicament; she looked for all the world like the peasant she was, and yet… there was something nameless and strong about her being, some unknown thing that called softly to me. _Curious_.

“A full belly I can give you, girl, but your vexatious death wish will not be fulfilled. Now, rise, and kneel there,” I pointed to a conspicuous corner of my study. She did as bid, silent and stoic as I released her. I rose and handed her a bowl of the still steaming stew, bread and water which had been sitting on the edge of my desk, waiting for her consumption. “If you require more, say so. I have no use for a weak slave,” I said tersely. She nodded her understanding and dove into her meal with abandon. When she requested more not two minutes later, a quiet voice breaking through my concentration on reviewing the list of those who had not paid their taxes, I absent-mindedly refilled the bowl and cup with a wave of my hand, frowning at the ever-growing parchment. She’d eaten three bowls before having her fill. The silence stretched on until the sun sank over the mountains of my realm, casting an orange light into the room. I lowered the last scroll and sighed, rubbing my eyes with a thumb and index finger. “Rebel,” I muttered, turning my gaze to find inquisitive green eyes looking back at me, “What are you called?”

“Emma, Majesty,” she answered. “My name is Emma.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Here it is! As always, feedback is appreciated!

_Emma. Em-ma_. Yes, it suited her. “Well, _Emma_ , until I deem it otherwise, your name is forfeit. You shall be called _Pet_ , do you understand?” Stony eyes regarded me. The look caused a flood of arousal to course through my spine. It was another tactic: Give them nothing to cling to, no sense of self.  A plaything had no need for it. “Do you _understand_?” Silence met my inquiry. A magical slap was issued to her cheek, snapping her head to the side. She didn’t cry out, merely took the blow with gritted teeth. “You’re a resilient little street rat, aren’t you?” I all but purred, my sex throbbing at the show of strength. Breaking her would be exquisite. As her blazing eyes met mine again, she bit her lip, causing it to reopen. I tracked the blood as it moved down her chin. “Come here.” She rose, eyes still fixed on me as she knelt between my knees again. Wiping at the blood with my index finger, I brought the stained digit to my mouth and sucked. When it was cleaned, I withdrew my finger and gave her a cruel smile. “You will refer to me as ‘Mistress’ or ‘My Queen’ from this moment forward. If you deviate from the titles given, you will be punished in any way I see fit. You are not to accept orders from anyone but myself or Lieutenant Graham, whom I will ensure you meet come the morrow. You will come to me when I send for you, without exception. Your time is not your own unless I specifically release you from duty. You will be sleeping in the slaves’ quarters unless I require my needs to be met. You are not to have any carnal affairs with the others under my command unless I wish it. If I find that you disobeyed, you and the one you chose to fornicate with will be tortured, severely. You are mine to do with as I please, _Pet_ ,” I sneered. “I enjoy causing pain, and your body shall be my canvas. Tomorrow, you will be taken to the square outside the palace and marked as mine, for all to see. Then, and only then, will your training begin.”

 I watched as she digested this information, watched with a gleam in my eye as she tried to turn away, as if she still had the freedom to do so. I held her chin firmly. “Have you questions, Pet?”

 “No… _Mistress_.” I reveled in her clenched jaw, drawing my thumb along the protruding muscle. “Very good. Daven!” I barked to the guard standing outside my study. My slave winced at the sudden harshness of my voice.

 “Majesty?” The seasoned warrior rounded the corner, his long silver hair swaying as he walked.

 “See that my newest toy makes it to the slaves’ quarters.” Slate-gray eyes moved from me to the blonde at my feet and back again.

 “By your will, Majesty,” he replied, his weather-beaten and horribly scarred face impassive. The man had been in my service since the beginning of my reign, once a trusted military advisor to Leopold, now mine, given that I had murdered his previous employer. And so I came to rule, forcing Leopold’s subjects into servitude, death the penalty for refusal. Those who supported me flocked to my banner, looking for an effective ruler in place of the incompetent monarch they once had. Though my decrees were harsh, they were respected by the nobility and upper class, no outcry of injustice was delivered. The peasants, however, fought indignantly with my metaphorical fist, and ultimately were crushed beneath it. I smirked. They would see where their foolery got them. Making their leader’s sentence public would more than likely quell any resistance, and if not, then… The guillotine would welcome them.

 “Go,” I muttered. My latest acquisition rose to her feet, forced a tight bow. I watched the slight sway of her hips as she moved away; fantasized about the claw marks I would leave there. _Delicious little bitch_ , I thought, magicking a goblet of apple brandy in my hand just as the door closed behind me. 

***

 My morning routine was as follows: A light breakfast of cheese, bread and fruit, a ride to the border of my kingdom, a bath, a meeting with my advisors in regards to whether or not my spies had seen anything of note within the White Kingdom. The answer, as always, was dull. The self-righteous imp that was my step-daughter, though she preached nothing but harmony to her people, was not the angel she painted herself to be. She ruined me. Killed what kindness I had left within me. Because of her, the only one who ever truly loved me was dead, his heart ripped from his chest and crushed in Mother’s unrelenting grasp. _‘Love is weakness, Regina,’_ her words, entirely too sweet, echoed in my head. _And all because a cherub-cheeked girl couldn’t keep her mouth shut!_ I snarled inwardly, the memory making my knuckles whiten as my hands closed around the gilded arms of my chair. I hadn’t killed Snow White, and not from lack of will. By the time I was able to exact my revenge, free of Leopold; she’d gotten wind of my… _intentions_ towards her and fled to the castle that was her birthright. A magical barrier was forthwith constructed to prevent my entry, hence the need for shadows. 

 I stood and let a sigh escape through my nose. “This meeting is adjourned, gentlemen. You may take your leave.” They stood as I turned to leave, all bowing in respect. “Graham.” I motioned, and he left his place beside the entrance of the conference room and fell into step beside me. “Have you done all I required?”

 “Yes, Your Majesty. News of Emma’s sentence has been spread throughout the village. No doubt her band of miscreants will come running. A crowd has already started forming in the square.”

 “And how be my audacious Pet this morning, Lieutenant?” 

 “As well as one tied to a whipping post can be, Majesty.”

 I chuckled appreciatively at his dry humor. “Good. Go; tell her I’ll be there shortly. And if anyone tries to interrupt the proceedings, shoot them.”

 “Majesty,” he bowed, not even flinching at the cold undertone of my voice as he sauntered off.

 As I made my way through the halls, I considered which whip to use. While the stock whip produced an attention-getting crack, unenchanted ones were harder to control, and left the slave’s back with uneven strokes marring it. I preferred precision; neat wounds healed all the faster. The cat was far too intimate a whip for what I wanted to achieve, due to its short handle, and would scar the blonde’s skin severely if used with enough force. I had no desire to scar such beautiful skin when I had barely even tasted it. _Perhaps... Yes_. With a snap of my fingers, I appeared in my bedchamber, my eyes immediately falling upon the ornate iron chest at the foot of my bed. Kneeling in front of it, I pushed the lid open, removing my rapier, which adored an open-mouthed serpent at the hilt, and my riding crop. Setting both items aside, I took out the long wooden box lying beneath. Inside the black velvet lining was a weapon I hadn’t used since the training of my first body slave: An eight foot stock whip I had named _‘The Viper.’_  I had enchanted it, and so the whip itself, not the black leather handle, glowed a searing violet color, in connection with my magic. I had engineered it in such a way that it produced the tale-tale crack, alerting those about me that punishment was being merited out, but it did not mar the skin, only gave the _illusion_ of such, yet elicited pain. It also provided intimacy; because the whip was developed with my magic, I would be able to feel the rebel’s reaction to her punishment. I had also made ‘ _The Viper’_ in such a way that the whip was easier to control, it followed the direction I bade it, and because of that I was able to gauge the strength of the lash much easier. With something akin to nervous excitement blooming in my chest, I took up my best breaking tool and smoothed the creases of my black dress.

***

All stilled as I appeared before my Pet. My eyes sought hers through windswept golden hair, and I wasn’t surprised to see anger. I regarded her coolly, a smirk fixed on my lips. She was quite a sight, what with her quaking shoulders and heaving ribs, her breasts pressed to the rough wood of the whipping post, arms raised above her head and hands shackled. She still wore her homespun trousers and worn boots. After today that would change. After today she would officially be _mine_. The thought was thrilling, and caused my heart to seize momentarily. Clearing my throat, I addressed the onlookers, some drab-looking peasants and others wide-eyed gentry.

 “The woman before you stands accused of treason! She shall receive thirty-nine lashes, as is custom for insinuating a riot against your Queen!” Cheers and heavy-hearted groans made a strange cacophony as the sounds filled the air. “Let the beating you will witness here today serve as a warning to those who dare rise against me! Let it also be known that the accused, Emma of the Dark Kingdom, shall hereafter be inducted into servitude!” An outraged cry was issued then, and, locating the sound, my gaze tracked a brunette pushing her way through the crowd. My archers stood poised on either side of the scaffolding, arrow tips dipped in dream shade. I nodded to the one on my right. An arrow was fired, sinking into the flesh of the young woman’s shoulder and coming clean through the other side. She sank to her knees in pain, but steely blue eyes held mine before succumbing to unconsciousness. “The next to cause a disturbance _will_ lose an eye,” I growled. When I was met with no further resistance I proceeded to take my stance behind my slave.

 “Pet,” I murmured in her ear, watching as my voice made gooseflesh appear on the back of her neck. “If you beg, the number of lashes will lessen.” I ran the handle of my whip down her spine, pleased at the shiver I received in response. Reaching up, I brushed the hair from her face, sweeping it across her shoulders. “From this day forward, you will bear my insignia. It cannot be removed by anyone but myself, and will act as a tracking device should you attempt to run.” Nothing but a gasp met me as the ink found a home on the back of her left shoulder; a serpent, fangs extended and embedded into the flesh of an apple, body curled protectively around its prize. “Now, rebel, are you ready?”

 “Yes.” It was a choked reply, equal parts anger and ebbing pain.

 “Yes _what_ , Pet?” I said, letting my anger at her insolence color my tone.

 “Yes, _My Queen_ ,” she snarled.

 I smacked her ass in acknowledgment and uncurled the whip. “Count aloud, slave,” I demanded.

 The first lash made her cry out, as did the second, third, and fourth, but she counted, her breath coming in shallow pants.

 “…Five…. Six….S-Seven…Eight…” Her emotions in response to the punishment surprised me. First it was fear, then it was boiling rage, then it was a survivalist’s instinct to live. The last emotion was a flicker of something that puzzled me: Wonder. It stayed for a mere heartbeat, then disappeared. It was a battle between rage and instinct after that.

 “Twelve...T-Thirteen…Fourteen…” By now her back was a beautiful shade of red, and she had yet to beg.

 “This can all end, Pet. You need only beg and I will release you.” She rested her forehead against the post, the muscles in her back twitching sporadically.

 “Never!” Despite her current state, the word was spat with such malice that I wondered at the blonde’s pain threshold. “...Eighteen…N-Nineteen….Twenty…”

 When the last lash was delivered, Graham stepped forward and released my barely conscious slave from her bindings. She fell to the floor of the scaffolding with a soft grunt. “Lieutenant, clear them out.”

 “Yes, Majesty, and what of the one who disrupted the flogging?”

 I looked to where the foolish woman had fallen, barely breathing. “If she lives, send her to me. If she dies, feed her body to the wolves.” I didn’t miss the hushed gasps and the chorus of more outcries as I enveloped both my Pet and myself in smoke. No doubt more of her band had been hiding within the crowd.

***

We reappeared in the servants’ quarters, and I met the shocked gazes I received with a dark one of my own. Ordering that Felicia tend to my toy’s flesh wounds, I turned on my heel, intent on riding myself of the pent-up lust that always accompanied a whipping.

Once in my rooms, after putting The Viper back in its place, I sent for Ameera, my favored body slave. I looked up from the book of sonnets I’d been reading to pass the time when she entered. Golden eyes settled on me before lowering, a smirk playing on full dark lips. She was a gorgeous specimen, her ebony skin so dark it nearly glowed. High cheekbones, a large and yet somehow feminine nose, a mouth that compelled one to dominate, to possess. Short black hair laid in corkscrews atop her head, the cut complementing her long neck. I beckoned her forward, and just as my blonde pet had, she knelt at my feet. Without preamble, I attacked her mouth, greeted with a willing moan and the opening of her mouth. I kissed her that way for several minutes, until the burn in my chest reminded me to breathe.

“Strip,” I panted. She got to her feet and made short work of the silken shift she wore, leaving it in a silver heap beside the chair I was sitting in. A heavy breast was thrust into my watering mouth, and I sucked with fever, drawing a deep groan from the golden-eyed beauty above me. I squeezed and slapped her rounded ass with my left hand, and parted her folds with my right, moaning at the wetness that coated my fingers. I stroked her roughly; my index and middle finger almost instantly finding the rough patch inside her that would make her quiver with want. “Mine,” I growled. “Who do you belong to, Ameera? Who _owns_ you?” I asked, pumping furiously.

“Y-You, My Queen!” I sucked and bit at her shoulder, drawing blood which I lapped at lavishly with my tongue. It was yet another tactic, to confuse pleasure with pain, to intertwine them so the mind accepted and craved both, no longer able to differentiate between the two.

“Come,” I commanded with a few flicks of my thumb against her clit, “ _Now_!” She complied, a long, low moan accompanying her release. I preferred that sound to the high-pitched mewl of some women. Of course, the voice was expected to rise in octaves during climax, which I understood, but if the orgasmic cry resembled a squeal, it did nothing but annoy my senses.“Good, very good,” I praised gently as I guided her back down from the euphoric high. “You’ve pleased me greatly, Pet, as always.”

“Thank you, Mistress. Shall I pleasure you, as well?”

“Another time, My Dragon. For now, dress and be on your way. There is another matter to which I must attend.”

“Of course, Mistress.” She donned her shift again and left as quietly as she had entered. Magicking my hand clean of the essence still coating it, I smirked and reached out with my magic to sense the state of my blonde rebel. I frowned. She was still in pain. I didn’t like the idea of such a promising toy being broken already.   


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: Non-consensual sex.

“What ails her?” I barked, appearing before my startled hand maiden in a puff of smoke. “Why is she still in pain?” I studied my slave’s back as I spoke: the false appearance of flesh wounds had gone with the help of salve, but now faint scratch-like marks took its place.

 “I – I do not know, Your Majesty,” Felicia replied timidly, wringing her hands. In response, I backhanded the woman forcefully, my rings cutting into her cheek. I would see about finding a healer knowledgeable in the ways of magic. The last one had died in her sleep years ago, and I hadn’t bothered to replace the old broad. Felicia flinched and slinked away. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, and instead turned to my Pet. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and she was biting her lip. I frowned. _She shouldn’t be reacting this way. Ameera received the same treatment and was fine within the quarter of an hour._ My brow furrowed even further when I noticed the marks glowing, emanating purple light. I hovered my hand over the damaged skin, amazed to see it knitting itself back together. _How is that possible? There’s no explanation other than… No, it can’t be!_ I shook my head. The idea that the blonde had magic within her veins and was reacting to mine was just too farfetched. A commoner that possessed magic? The thought was inconceivable. My Pet was looking at me with wide eyes.

 “How did you –?”  

 “Never you mind, Pet. How do you feel?”

 “Admittedly better,” she murmured, rising from the cot slowly, her forearm covering her breasts as she sat upright. And then, as an afterthought, said so quietly I strained to hear: “My Queen.” I heard barely suppressed bitterness; an acute tiredness that I never expected one so young to have. Grasping her chin with my fingers, I peered into her eyes, finding a spark of indignation beneath the façade of compliance.

 I smirked. “Come then, slave. I require you.” With a wave of my hand I replaced her tunic, not wanting her to be on display as we walked across the barracks. She was mine and if I caught the gaze of a soldier, whether it be male or female, lingering on _my_ property, there would be hell to pay. “Walk to the right of me, Pet. Ten paces behind,” I instructed. Through my prereferral vision, I watched her strides. They were strong and steady, heavy-footed. Her back was ram-rod straight, shoulders straining with tension. Eyes forward, her expression was vacant.  _I must teach her to move with grace if she is to serve me_ , I muttered internally. Her limbs were long and lovely, slender, holding the potential for grace, and yet she walked with recklessness. She was an enigma to be sure, this _Emma_ , with her uncouth tongue and insolent ways. Beautifully infuriating.

 The walk to my chambers was a silent one. I let my Pet have her musings; she would be much too occupied to have them once we reached my bedchamber. I quickened my pace at that, eager to have her flesh beneath my hands. Upon reaching my destination, I dismissed the guard at the door with a message that I was not to be disturbed. I was going to fuck her senseless. She stood in the middle of the room, emerald eyes taking in every detail of her surroundings before finding and holding my gaze.

 “Strip, rebel, _now_.” I made my voice cold, a growl.

 Her eyes flashed, her jaw clenched. “So you can rape me?”

 I stepped closer, my fingers finding her neck and squeezing. “I could, you strong-willed, idiotic harlot,” I seethed. “I could take you, tear you in two, and throw your body to the damn dogs!” I took her mouth in a bruising kiss, bit until I tasted copper, pulled back. “But that would give you what you wanted, and I am not a woman who grants the wishes of _peasants_.” As I said this, I cupped her breast with my free hand, twisted the nipple. “No, death will be denied to you; it is a validation. Your cries will have to suffice."  I sucked on her neck, bit it, and eased up on her breast, squeezing gently. “Do you realize, Pet,” I breathed against her throat, “That most women would die to be in your current position?” I let the tip of my tongue trace the underside of her jaw, smiled as she shuddered.

 “Why not… Choose them?” she rasped. I didn’t answer, instead lifting up her shirt and raking my nails down her side.

 “Fuck you,” she panted, and I scratched harder at her skin until I felt blood begin to pool beneath my fingers. “I’m no one’s toy!” I left the flesh underneath her tunic and snapped my fingers, still holding her by the throat with my opposite hand. Her clothes disappeared, and I eyed the arousal coating her quivering thighs.

 “Your body betrays that sentiment, My Pet,” I groaned, finding her mouth again and pushing my tongue inside while letting my free hand rub against her heated sex. She moaned against my mouth then, and I felt her stiffen, hating herself for reacting. Teasing her opening with one finger, I felt her knees began to buckle. “Oh,” I murmured, letting her lips go with a wet pop and looking into her eyes, wild now with anger and lust. “So eager to be fucked already?” A coy smile played on my lips as her eyes hardened again. “On your knees, slave.” Still glaring, she did as I commanded when I circled her opening again. I followed her down, my mouth sucking at her neck once more as I freed her hair from its tie. Her skin tasted exquisite.

 I raked my teeth down her sternum, lapped to ease the burning, nipped, until I took a hardened nipple in my mouth and sucked. Hard. Simultaneously, my fingers buried themselves inside her, second-knuckle deep. She faltered, momentarily losing her position and rocking unsteadily on her knees before centering herself again.

 “You bitch,” she growled, thrusting against my intruding fingers. “I don’t want this.”

“And yet,” I spoke around the swell in my mouth, gave a particularly hard thrust, made her cry out in pain, “You haven’t pushed me away, Pet,” I sneered. She gritted her teeth as I pulled on the nipple with my teeth. Lifting my head after a moment, I licked lavishly at her bloodied bottom lip. “Such a pretty little mouth,” I purred, fucking her in earnest now, my fingers making rough circles as her hips followed my hand. “We must find a better use for it other than insulting me.” I squeezed at her throat. “Don’t you agree, My Pet?”

 She bit her lip, grunted as I continued to move inside her. “Answer me!” I demanded, my hand leaving her throat to wreak havoc with the opened wounds on her side.

 “Yes!” she yelled, “Fuck!”

 I smiled cruelly, letting her see the aroused gleam in my eyes that her pain caused. “There’s a good Pet,” I whispered in her ear, grinning at the sharp intake of breath when my thumb pressed her clit.  “Come. Come on my hand, slave. Show me what I do to you.” My voice was a husky, smoke-laden sound. I felt pale fingers dig at my back, clutching the material of my dress. My own sex was drenched and clenching painfully at the wanton moans I was hearing. I moved faster, adding a third digit easily. Her head had fallen onto my shoulder, but I roughly pushed her back, earning a glare. “Look at me when you come,” I said hoarsely. The all-consuming need to conquer the girl was making my head spin. My free hand found the top of her ass, and I gave her a hard slap, then let my fingers scratch up, leaving red welts undoubtedly in their wake. All the while her eyes held mine, angry still, even as her mouth opened and a cry ripped from her throat. She shuddered for several minutes. I watched her expression switch from pleasure to pain and back again. A few more thrusts when she had calmed, and she was coming again.

 Her eyes held no lust now, only hatred. I kissed her, swallowed her moans, pushed her away from me when the quaking stopped. “You are the damnedest creature,” I murmured, looking at her naked heaving form. She was laying on her side, lips parted, blood streaming in a sluggish rivulet down her chin and dripping onto the rug. And, as I gazed upon her, I saw again that odd flicker of emotion in her expression: Wonder. I raised a brow, leaned forward and sucked the blood from her chin. “Such a good fuck,” I murmured, “You’ve been with women before, haven’t you?” A nod. A shift in her expression before collapsing back into resoluteness. “Oh, did I take you from the arms of your sweet, innocent lover?” I asked patronizingly. She glared.

 “She left me for another, _Mistress_ ,” she ground out, hissing my title like I was Satan himself.

 I twisted my face into a mockery of over-exaggerated  compassion, my lip protruding in a pout, even as my eyes remained impassive. I could see myself in the window of her gaze, teasing and deadly and _dark_. “Don’t fret, My Pet. She would never have been able to fulfill you as I have.” Reaching forward, I tangled my fingers in her hair, pulling roughly once. “It’s just as well. You belong to me now.” I kissed her, hard and possessive. “Now, go, my insolent little slut. Bathe, and then you shall dine with me. I will provide you with proper clothing; it is time you rid yourself of those rags. Felicia will leave you the outfit I wish for you to wear.”

 “Yes, _Mistress_ ,” she muttered. I smirked, rose from the floor. She followed suit, though with much less grace then I would have liked. I smacked her ass when she turned to leave, my smirk staying in place as she rounded, blazing eyes boring into me before she left to do as I commanded.

***

 If it was possible, the dress she wore only heightened her beauty. The green silk clung to her frame perfectly. It was shoulder-less and cut low in the front. The material looked to be ripped at the sides, revealing the red cuts my fingers had left. The bite I had left on her neck was healing, but still stood out in bruise-colored glory against her skin. Her hair was piled eloquently atop her head, and a few wisps of yellow hair brushed against the top of her shoulders. Light makeup had been applied to her eyes, cheeks, and lips.

 “Well well, My Pet,” I said coquettishly, “It seems you are indeed fit for a Queen.” My slave swallowed, set her jaw. Shifted from foot to foot on sandaled feet. “Stop fidgeting!” I demanded. “Come,” I gestured to a pillow situated on the floor beside my dining chair, “Kneel.” Green eyes widened, narrowed, then shut momentarily as she gathered herself. “Come,” I repeated impatiently when her gaze settled on me again, “Never keep your Queen waiting, Pet.” Silently she took her place. “Rest on your heels, knees together. Your hands remain folded in your lap. When I am in the presence of others above your station, your head will remain bowed at all times, unless I require you to fulfill a command. You are to watch for my signal. More often than not, it will be a verbal command. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Felicia?”

“Majesty?” she stood in a far corner of the dining hall, small and demure.

 “Bring me Ameera.” With a slight curtsy, she left and I turned my attention back to the succulent blonde at my right. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

 “Then you shall eat.” I tore a piece of honeyed duck from the breast on my plate and held it to her mouth. “Take it from my hand.” A look of indignation crossed her features and settled there in the line of her lips and the creases about her eyes. When she made no move to take what I offered, I retracted my hand and brought the meat to my own mouth, sucking my fingers as I ate. “Do you not wish to eat tonight, Pet?” I asked when I had finished the bite.

 “You rape me, take away my freedom, and now you expect me to eat from your hand like some fucking mongrel?!” The blow landed so hard against her cheek that when she righted herself to glare at me, her eyes were unfocused. I leaned down, grasped her chin.

 “You will be punished for that outburst, and you will not eat tonight. Rear against this predicament which you deem so hellish as much as you like, dear. It changes nothing. You are mine because I command it to be so.” I shoved her face away, proceeded to pick sourly at my plate. _Such an ungrateful, infuriating imp!_ When the knock sounded, I let out the frustrated breath I’d been holding through my nose. Ameera stood by the door, awaiting instruction. “Pet, reposition yourself on the floor, beside the pillow. Ameera, My Dragon, come. It seems my newest toy needs a lesson in etiquette, as well as grace. Pet, watch her.” Long ebony legs moved fluidly, hips swayed ever so slightly. I was pleased to see the rebel watching, eyes fixated as my Dragon sank to her knees silently, head bowed and hands folded.

 “Learn, Pet. It will save you from many a beating. Ameera, wine.” In one faultless movement, she was up and pouring the red liquid into a golden goblet. “Do you see, rebel, the grace with which she moves? Every gesture is meant to entice and beckon lust to the forefront of the mind. That is your goal, to tease, to make others envious of your position. They may wish to have you, but you are mine, and mine alone.” I paused, sipped at my drink. Setting it down, I tore another piece of duck and placed it against dark, plump lips. She took it gently from my fingers, licking them clean. I groaned at the feeling of her tongue wrapping itself around my digits.

 “Very good, My Dragon,” I husked, leaning to capture her lips with mine. I could feel my Pet squirming, whether it was from arousal or the hard stone underneath her knees, I wasn’t certain. I broke the kiss and looked at her. Arousal. I smirked. “Pet, copy her movements, rise from the floor and pour me wine.” She did as I bid, her limbs deliberately slow. “Better. Splay your fingers as you pour, let your palm take the weight of the pitcher. Yes, good. Now take your place.” She mimicked Ameera’s pose. I ate in silence, one hand absent-mindedly stroking the coarse curls beneath my palm. Why did the blonde have to be so…so –!

 “Mistress?” I blinked, realized my hand had fisted in Ameera’s hair. I relaxed, flexed my fingers on my Dragon’s scalp. Didn’t the impecunious bitch understand? She couldn’t possibly have had a decent life outside the palace; I was showing _mercy_ by not killing her outright, and yet I was being scorned! I huffed, and with a twist of my wrist in the blonde’s direction, her airways constricted. Wide eyes immediately found mine, and I grinned coldly. “A fearful peasant greets me at last. Where is your bravado now, My Pet?” Ameera was watching silently, knowingly. I inched my fingers closer together, making a half fist. The blonde’s pretty pink mouth opened and closed like a fish in a trap. The fear in her eyes was very satisfying. “You will not speak to me that way again, or your punishments will increase in severity. Do you understand, _slave_?” A nod as her complexion grayed. I released her, relishing her heaving, cut ribs and the wide, terrified expression.

 “If anyone’s the fucking mongrel here, my insolent little slut,” I murmured, making my voice sickly sweet, “It’s you.”


	4. Chapter 4

I retired to my study after the meal, dismissing Ameera with a heated kiss that left my sex aching. There would be time for that, but not now. My Pet needed to be dealt with. What method to use? She was resilient when it came to physical pain, hunger, and mental taunts only seemed to increase her ire towards me. There had to be cracks in that damnable mask she wore… I just needed to find them. I studied her in the far corner of the room, eyes unblinking and back straight, even as she sat on her knees. What would it take? I looked up from the parchment I’d only half read – another tax report. The peasants weren’t pulling their weight. Her gaze shifted when she felt me regarding her. I waited, held her eyes, unreadable. She looked away. Swallowed. Shifted on the pillow given her.

A knock on my door startled us both. I could see it in the way the blonde’s back muscles jumped slightly beneath her skin.

“Majesty?”

“Enter,” I muttered at hearing my Lieutenant’s voice.

“Majesty,” he bowed as he stepped into the room.

“What is it, Graham? I’m in no mood for interruptions,” I groused.

“The girl lives, My Queen, the one who was shot by the arrow dipped in dream shade. Her will to live is extraordinary, I’ve never seen the like of it before.”

I raised a brow at that. “The poison reseeded on its own?” That was barely heard of, only the strongest survived it. Most of the victims died within a twenty-four hour period.

“There was a pendent about her neck, Majesty. A wooden carving of a howling wolf. I am uncertain as to whether it contains magical properties, but it seems to give the girl strength.”

“I see,” I said, “And her name?”

“Belle, Majesty.” My slave’s head, which had been bowed until that moment, snapped up. Her eyes shone with both hope and fear in equal measure. It was an odd thing to see the two emotions battle for dominance over her expression.

“Pet?” I questioned.

“She is… part of the rebellion, Mistress.” The pliable quality of her voice was recognition enough that I had the leverage I needed.

“What is her relation to you, Pet?” I demanded.

“A friend, Mistress. Please… spare her life.”

Her plea stirred something in me. I suddenly had visions of her naked and breathless, asking for my touch instead of shrinking from it. “What’s this?” I said, gazing at her through narrowed eyes, “My sharp-tongued rebel _begging_ me?” I laughed. The fire in those forest-green eyes sparked, then simmered, but never left. “And if I were to say I wanted this Belle’s heart served at dinner?” I asked, wanting to see how far my Pet would go to protect someone she claimed to care for.

She bowed her head at my inquiry. “Please,” was all she said.

I turned back to Graham. “What is her current condition?”

“Weak, but responsive, My Queen.”

“Have Odette feed her milk and honey. When she is strong enough, and coherent, send her to me.”

“Yes, Majesty,” my Lieutenant replied, silently shutting the door behind him.

“Thank you…Mistress,” my slave’s voice sounded to the right of me, relief coloring her tone.

“You are mistaken if you think this to be a favor to you, Pet. Those capable of overcoming dream shade are exceptional. She will be useful.” I said this without looking at her, my eyes going back to the document. She didn’t reply, and we lapsed into silence.

***

The first thing I noticed about the girl called Belle was her eyes. Inquisitive and ocean-blue, they missed nothing, like my Pet’s. A tattered blue dress draped from her frame, and a drab brown cloak hung from her shoulders, hood down. She had a heart-shaped face, and by all accounts her appearance left one unbelieving that she could be so crass. I had learned early in my reign never to be deceived by first impressions. And so I appraised her, sipped my brandy, eyed my Pet. She’d been withdrawn as of late, so I had sent her away from me, only demanding her presence for this meeting. I knew she was still not mine, and that unsettled me. Her gaze stayed trained on Belle’s face, as she did not have to bow her head in the company of another peasant, but she did not speak. The brunette’s eyes flickered from her to me and back again. She was trying so hard to repress her shock that I couldn’t help but smirk behind my cup.

“I am impressed, girl. Not many survive dream shade. Tell me, is there magic in your blood?”

“No, Your Majesty.” Her hand closed around the wolf carving; I raised a brow in question. When she said nothing I bade her speak. “Your Majesty, I have heard of your appetite for the exotic; I must ask a favor and beg you not to seek my love. If you must, take me in her place.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes yes, you have my word. Now tell me of yourself, lest these noble sentiments make me sick.”

“My love is a werewolf, Your Majesty. She was able to transmit some of her own healing magic into the amulet. It is because of her that I am alive.”

“I see. And how did you come to know my Pet?” Belle flinched at the title. I watched as blue eyes met and held green, and then the girl spoke again.

“It is a long tale, Majesty. May I sit?” I nodded, gestured with my hand to the plush chair across from me. When she has situated herself, she began in earnest. “I had ran away, Your Majesty, to find peace from Rumpelstiltskin…”

“You were his whore,” I surmised bluntly, knowing my mentor’s tastes.

She bowed her head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

I saw my Pet shift uncomfortably on her knees from the corner of my eye. “I take it you did not know this, Pet?”

“No, Mistress.”

Nodding, I gestured for Belle to continue. “I was highly valued, and so when I ran, he sent a locater spell after me, engineered in such a way that when it found my trail, it would forcibly bring me back. I had read about it in his spell books, and so I knew how to fool it. It was Emma and Ruby who helped me trick the spell by leaving false trails of my scent throughout the woods. When I explained my situation, Emma allowed me to join the Revolution. That was four years ago. When I heard that she had been captured… I had to try and save her, Majesty. She is my friend, and I couldn’t leave her to this fate without her knowing that one of her own at least attempted to save her.” It awed me that the blonde could inspire such loyalty in others. Such blind faith bordered on the idiotic, and yet my Pet had an entire band ready to come to her aid, even at the cost of their own life.

“You are well-versed in the types and effects of both poison and magic,” I muttered. “I have need for a healer. I will not send you back to Rumple, as having you ensures the insufferable imp will someday owe me a boon if he wishes to acquire you. Due to your relation to my Pet, your interactions will be monitored. Attempting to escape will result in torture of the utmost brutality. I suggest you keep your wits about you.” I swallowed the last bit of apple brandy and smirked at their equally shocked and terrified expressions. “Understood?”

Belle nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Pet, am I clear?”

“Yes, Mistress.” I saw her face falter again with her answer. Belle held her gaze fleetingly after that utterance of ownership, and I shivered with pleasure in response.

“Show her to the infirmary, then report back to me. I trust you remember where to find it?”

“Yes. For the last few days, as I have not been required by you, I have taken the time to memorize the grounds, Mistress.” Her voice was flat; the mask was back in place.

I let a smile curve my lips. “I am aware. Daven is unaccustomed to playing the role of a shadow. The old dog’s grumbling was quite comical.” She merely shook her head. “Go, and be quick.” The rebel rose slowly from her knees, and I was pleased to see the movement was much more fluid. “Have you been practicing, Pet?” I asked, arching a brow.

Her cheeks burned with shame, but she held my gaze with that defiant gleam that showed itself beneath the rubble of her docile actions. “Anything to keep myself alive, _My Queen_.”

***

“Pet,” I murmured when she returned, looking up from the small platter of green apples and cheese I’d requested be brought to my receiving room. I’d been reclined in a chair in front of the fire, fantasizing about the blonde’s beautiful body which I hadn’t touched in days due to my anger. Ameera had seen to my needs and pleasure instead. “Do you think thanks are in order?” It was a teasing question, her response would not change the outcome, but I enjoyed provoking her.

She came forward, kneeling in her designated spot beside my chair. She’d had time to compose herself; the fire didn’t burn as brightly now. I frowned at her slightly disheveled appearance. She had returned the green dress I had leant her for dinner, and now wore her plain white shift and sandals. The garment was wrinkled and needed a washing, and her hair looked as if it had been combed by her fingers. I was tempted to have her bathe, as the communal bathhouse for the servants left her exposed to filth, but the desire to have her outweighed the thought. She would bathe afterwards.

“I’m grateful, Mistress,” she said softly.

I grasped her chin, my breath mingled with hers as I spoke. “Show me.” To my pleasure, she initiated the kiss, though it was soft and close-mouthed. I nipped at her lip, opened my mouth, dragged my tongue along the top of her teeth. She whimpered as I took her tongue between my lips and sucked. I pulled back a bit, smirking at her stormy, conflicted eyes before putting my mouth to her ear.“Go to my bed, Pet,” I purred seductively. “Strip and lay on your back… I want you to show me just how _grateful_ you are.”

“If you wish, Mistress,” she said in a strained voice that told me she was fighting to keep her composure.

“I do,” I said, the seductive tone still lingering in my voice.

When she had gone, I finished my platter slowly, giving her time to do as I bid. She was an unpredictable, hot-tempered creature, and the idea of making such a strong-willed woman beg and plead, was one too delicious not to bring to life. The sight that greeted me when I finally opened the doors to my chamber was enough to make me moan aloud. Her chest heaved from nerves, causing her breasts to sway tantalizingly, rosy buds already hard and beckoning my watering mouth. Her hands were claws on my blood-red satin sheets, and her legs, beautifully sculpted and taunt in preparation, were slightly parted, revealing her well-trimmed sex. I tore my gaze away and looked at her face. Golden hair was strewn wildly across the bed, her eyes were dark with rage and fear and something I couldn’t name.

“You make a very appetizing sight, My Pet,” I husked. She bit her lip. With a snap of my fingers, my ensemble, which had been tight leather trousers, thigh-high boots, and a blue broad-shouldered top, disappeared. “Now… Shall we see if that insolent mouth of yours has any more talents?” She said nothing, her mouth open in silent shock. I was accustomed to others viewing my body, but something about the blonde’s complete awe and blown pupils made a feral grin appear on my lips. Making my movements slow and feline-like, I approached the foot of my bed, knelt, and crawled up her body, hearing a gasp as soon as my breasts dragged across her stomach. “Fuck me, rebel,” I commanded, raking my teeth down her neck before situating myself above her mouth.

She licked tentatively at first, then harder when I snarled at her pace. I fisted her hair, and she cried out, the sound only served to stimulate my clit, and I gripped harder. “Yes,” I hissed, bringing one hand up to squeeze my own breast as my hips started to buck. She used a circular pattern, I was pleased to find, and her tongue was long enough to dip inside before darting back out to focus on the bundle of nerves that was twitching with delicious obscenity in her warm mouth. “Such a good little bitch, fucking me like the whore you are,” I moaned, punctuating my words with a roll of my hips. I felt her hands close around my ass at that, gripping firmly. We continued that way, a cacophony of moans, grunts, and hisses, until she started moving her head side to side, and I came with a scream. Catching my breath, I rode out the last of my orgasm, licking my lips. I climbed off of her, intent now on fucking her senseless.

“You do have a talented mouth, My Pet. I think I’d like to hear it scream for me.”


	5. Chapter 5

She was trembling, muted gasps around my fingers as they plundered her mouth and I fucked her from behind. The large leather phallus strapped to my hips was buried up to the hilt inside her, and her shaking only intensified my need. Growling, I twisted my hand in her hair and jerked her head back, adding to the plethora of dark bruises already marring her throat. I extracted my fingers from her mouth and scratched my nails down her arched back, blood bloomed. Leaving her neck, I licked at the scratches, smilingly wickedly as I heard a hiss of pain. I pulled completely out, slammed into her again.

“Come for me, Pet,” I demanded, rocking sporadically against her as I was nearly there myself. I’d enchanted the phallus so that it responded like an actual penis, but did not release sperm. The leather had come alive with my magic, and so I felt every delicious clench and quiver of her sex. She was gritting her teeth against my rough thrusts and my mouth now nipping at her earlobe. She’d been silent throughout the fucking, moaning quietly and gasping, but never begging. It would come in time, I reasoned, until then I’d have to content myself with knowing that I was pushing the rebel’s limits with my power, and that fact pleased me greatly.

She came with a shudder, which triggered my own release. Collapsing on her sweat-soaked back, I chuckled darkly in her ear as the removal of the phallus made her whimper. “I think you rather like my cock, Pet,” I teased. She didn’t reply. I rolled away from her, sated and heavy-lidded. “You are dismissed. I will call for you when I have need of you.” With a flick of my wrist, I pulled on the magic I had embedded within the insignia upon her back. She flinched at the unexpected sensation, then relaxed as it faded. “That is your signal to come to me, without delay. Now leave me,” I grumbled, sleep tugging at my mind insistently. I hadn’t slept well in days, and my body was finally spent, both of magical and physical energy. I watched her gather herself silently, dressing quickly and giving me a curt half bow before leaving me to my slumber.

***

I woke refreshed. Apparently fucking the blonde was good for my humor. I had the rarity of having a slow morning that day, as it was Sunday and the believers of my kingdom were off to worship in the chapel outside the palace walls. At the beginning of my reign, my supporters praised God for my rise to power, which I found nonsensical to say the least. I had become their leader through striking fear into the hearts of my enemies and murder, not through divine providence. Still, I left them to their ways. As no harm came from it, I tolerated the practice.

As I made my way to the stables after breakfast, dressed in a loose black shirt and my typical leather breeches and boots, I came upon a scene that made me pause. Outside the infirmary, my Pet had taken a defensive stance in front of her friend, shielding her from a glowering young man, arms outstretched, palms flat with fingers curled, eyes narrowed and legs taunt. All this just in a simple white shift. The view made me smirk. It appeared my street-rat had gallantry. I stepped into the fray. “What is the meaning of this, Pet?”

“That bitch,” he gestured to the rebel with his chin, “Wouldn’t let me ‘ave my way with ‘er,” Garrus, a pompous stable-hand muttered, pointing a thick finger in Belle’s direction. “I was just tryin’ to ‘ave a bit ‘o fun, Yer Majesty.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I was not addressing you, whelp. See that you hold your tongue lest you desire to become a mute. If you’re so eager for a fucking, I suggest your hand. Lord knows no woman would have you.” He opened his mouth to protest, but I called on my magic and constricted his throat before he could speak. “My Pet is likely to rid you of your manhood permanently. I think I might let her,” I said lightly, raising an eyebrow at her. She looked at me with wide eyes, but then the mask settled, and emotion vanished. I chuckled silently; provoking the blonde was a very amusing past time. It had started as a joke, but I now wondered if she had the capacity to carry out the act. She had relaxed slightly, arms down at her sides, fingers lose, but her pose remained rigid, waiting. With a nod of my head, a long-bladed knife appeared in her right hand. “Pet, you have my permission to emasculate the whelp.”

“No!” Garrus choked out, “Have mercy, Majesty!” The fear in his eyes was delicious. Belle let out a gasp behind her friend, buried her face in her hands.

My slave stepped forward, her eyes steady with mine as she held the knife out to me. “Your words are warning enough, Mistress,” she murmured in a hard voice. “I don’t think he will attempt dalliance with her now.” And here she let her mouth curve upward.

I sighed through my nose, released him. He fell in a gasping heap. “Go saddle my horse, you miserable imp. Be grateful my mood is lenient this morning,” I huffed. Garrus nodded and scrabbled frantically to his feet. _Idiot._ “The Dark One’s whore is too useful a tool,” I grumbled, answering the unasked question I knew I would find in the blonde’s eyes. I had a feeling she knew something of the tactics I used; she wouldn’t have lived this long if she didn’t. Dull-witted women did not live long in this world.

“Pet,” I said, taking my gaze from the bumbling stable-hand’s retreating figure and looking at her, “Do you ride?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Well?”

“Yes, Mistress."

“Good. Come with me.” A glance was shared between the blonde and brunette. Belle squeezed my Pet’s shoulder and then disappeared back into the infirmary. The stables were adjacent to the training fields, where Daven and Graham were putting the soldiers through their paces. I had no hand in recruitment, as both my Lieutenant and Commander knew the kind of men and women I wanted in my ranks: strong, quick-minded, fast and possessing the ability to follow orders without question, no matter how gruesome they might find it. Most of the women were archers, though a few preferred the shield, and even fewer preferred greatswords. There was no division of the sexes in my army, and though the result of that decision was a frown and a shake of the head from many a noble, I cared not for their narrow-mindedness and reminded them to whom they spoke.

I watched for a moment, the clang of steel a reminder of the inevitable war with the White Kingdom. Snow would pay, I wouldn’t rest until her heart was dust in my hand. The leather of my riding gloves creaked as my hands fisted. Turning on my heel, I moved with irritated strides, making sure my Pet was ten paces behind me. She followed silently, gaze straight ahead.

When we arrived at the stables, Arion was saddled and tied to a hitching post, snorting impatiently as I rounded the corner. He could always sense my presence before I came into view, so close was our bond. Garrus was busily mucking out stalls to the left of me, his still-healing shin making him stumble a bit as he worked. Michael was brushing a recruit’s mount, speaking softly into its ear as he did so. The rest of the hands busied themselves with oiling saddles or fixing cracked shoes. Patting my beast’s neck in way of greeting, I mounted in one fluid motion, offering my hand to the still quiet blonde.

“Behind me, slave.” My tone was neutral but authoritative, all traces of my previous humor gone with thoughts of Snow White. Once she was settled, I snapped my fingers and gave her an outfit similar to mine; a white silken shirt and a simple braid, tight cream-colored trousers and brown boots. I felt her jump slightly in reaction to my magic, as she was prone to do, and tighten her grip around my waist in reflex.

***

The ride was a quiet one, but she did know how to ride. I felt it in the way she mimicked my movements; confident and sure but respectful of the horse beneath her. Arion carried us with effort at a canter, his breaths deep and his strides wide. The sun was beginning to reach its peak in the sky, and as we rode trees formed tightly-bound walls on either side of the clearing. I veered right, knowing by the widening gap in the woodland that my destination was near. Wild apple trees enclosed the next clearing we entered, creating a circle-like space. Dismounting, I walked to the northern part of the forest, snapped my fingers. Branches began to move and shift, lengthen and move out and downward, until something of a throne appeared, and I situated myself comfortably in it. My Pet was still atop my mount, barely concealed awe in her eyes. I smirked. It had been a last minute decision to bring her, but I had wanted to hear more about this Revolution, and did not want gossip to spread. Very few knew Belle’s identity, most of the talk centered on my Pet.

Crossing my left leg over my right thigh, I tapped the boot still on the ground and looked at her expectantly. “Move, rebel,” I growled. “What did I tell you about keeping me waiting?"

At that her mental fog seemed to clear and she did as I asked, still silent as she came to stand in front of my woodland throne. The bite marks I had given her the night before were clearly visible due to the style of her hair, and the sight of them made my mouth water. _So unknowing of her own appeal, yet so brazen_. A wave of my hand and branches wrapped themselves around her waist and chest, above and under her breasts, pulling her forcibly back against the wall of trunks. She yelped and tried to free herself. I chuckled. Another snap and her clothes vanished in a mist of purple smoke. Now she doubled her efforts, jaw protruding in anger and gaze piercing. “You are quite beautiful when you’re angry, Pet,” I murmured. A flush colored her cheeks, and I cared not whether it was from embarrassment or arousal. “Stop your wriggling, slave, the bonds will only tighten if you do.” She settled then, though her chest still heaved. “Binding suits you,” I husked, “Such an arousing picture you make.” Another snap of my fingers and the ties securing her hair fell away, her golden waves cascading down her back. “Now, tell me of this Revolution of yours. Spare no detail."

“Why?” she spat. 

"I aim to understand why the peasants of my realm refuse to pay their keep,” I bit back. We glared heatedly at one another for several heartbeats. When it became clear she refused to speak, I snapped my fingers yet again. Thorns appeared on the branches encasing her, drawing hisses and blood alike as they cut into her skin. “Speak, damn you!” I barked, rapidly losing my patience.

Through gritted teeth she replied: “Famine.” I relaxed her restraints a bit, so she could continue without an apparent wheeze to her words. “No food, no work for the farmers. No work, no money, no taxes for your damn coffers, _Mistress_ ,” she sneered. “So people starve, children die. There are tiny graves in the village, which your men trample while raping widows because they can’t pay a fucking silver. So we steal, distribute what we can, get beaten for trying to live, and do it all over again when the sun rises. The houses are nothing more than shacks. In winter we can’t bury the dead; we burn them in the cooking fires.” Her eyes searched my face for a reaction.

“How gallant, my insolent little slut,” I murmured, smirking at the cold furry in her gaze, “That you should volunteer yourself to bear the weight of a political movement doomed to fail on your shoulders. Tell me, should I purge your rat-nest? Rid you of the internal burden you carry?” I asked sardonically.

“The movement will continue, no matter what you throw at us,” she growled. I tightened her bonds again; let the thorns cut the top of her left breast.

“Us? You speak as if you still belong with them, _Pet_.”

“I do,” she said simply. “Instead, I’m here with _you_ , _Mistress_.”

“Indeed,” I smiled, “And such a talented slave you are.” She glared as my smile formed into a smirk. Waving my hand, an apple as red as her blood appeared in my palm. I took a bite, let my gaze turn seductive as I looked at her, arched an amused brow at the contrast her body gave me; seething eyes full of fire, and a flushed complexion.

 _You hate yourself, don’t you, My Pet?_ I thought as I licked my lips clean of juice. Standing, I walked over to her, my gloved hand tossing the bitten fruit as I moved. I pressed it to her lips. Having no way to refuse me, she opened her mouth and sunk her teeth where mine had been. I tossed the apple over my shoulder, quickly ducked my head to suck at the blood on her breast. “I suppose this makes me your serpent, Pet,” I said breathlessly against her skin, “How entirely fitting.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Herald - A person bringing official news.

That night, I dreamt of tiny graves and the cries of hungry children. I hadn’t felt guilt in a long time – it was an odd, disconcerting thing, and put me in the mind of my childhood. Naturally, I dismissed it. Sleep being an elusive pursuit, I summoned Ameera who satisfied me with the  same phallus I had used on the blonde the previous night. I rode her, my hand gripping tightly at my Dragon’s dark throat. I was always in control, even when I was the one being fucked. Ameera never forgot this, never tested the length of leash I kept her on, and because of this, she became something like a right hand to me. She delivered messages to whomever I needed, fulfilled whatever whim I demanded be met, brought my meals occasionally when I required it, and sometimes counseled me on matters of the realm. She did all this without tipping the scale of master and slave, understanding that her life was mine to do with as I pleased. Dragons were very loyal creatures, logical, unlike any other being within the Enchanted Forest. Most thirsted for instant gratification, and foolishly threw themselves at the obstacle obstructing their goal, never realizing that their own eagerness could be the difference between life or death. Dragons, however, knew the value of patience.

Ameera had been a gift to me from Maleficent about a year into my reign. She had been the final formality in acquiring an allegiance with the Dragon Kingdom. My gift had been fifty of my finest horses. I had lusted after the Queen of Dragons, most vehemently in fact, but my youthful fixations had only been  met with easy smiles and an offer of friendship, which I gratefully accepted. Though I hadn’t been with a woman until Ameera, I had always found them undeniably attractive. After Leopold had raped me, I had sworn off men, and adopted my dominant persona as a result, both in and out of the bedchamber.   

 _“She will keep your bed warm, Regina,"_ Maleficent had said with a gleam in her yellow-green eyes. And so it was that she taught me everything I now know about sex and power – how to remain in control while still getting my needs met, how to seduce with a look, how to channel my magic for sexual purposes.

I threw my head back and screamed as a third orgasm ripped through me, allowing me to slip into unconsciousness. There were no more dreams.

***

Mother had long ago taught me, tediousness notwithstanding, that court was a necessary evil. Felicia timidly informed me I had petitions to hear and judgments to make as she filled the brass tub for my bath. “Very well,” I grumbled.“Send my Pet to me in an hour’s time. See that she bathes and eats her fill, she’s beginning to look gaunt. Tell Ameera to ready herself as well.”

“Yes, My Queen.”

I soaked in the steaming water, mentally preparing myself for the day ahead as I shaved and scrubbed, having a small bowl beside me for the purpose of rinsing the blade. Court usually lasted from noon to dusk, and with wine flowing, insolence was almost a guarantee. Sighing, I slipped further into the tub, enjoying the submersion. Water filled my ears and dulled my senses. I had always enjoyed the feeling, the embrace of the water was immensely comforting. Sitting up, I finished washing with lavender-scented soap, and rose from the tub, drying myself on the soft white towel my maid had left.

The door to my bedchamber opened, and I heard Felicia softly instructing: “Kneel on the rug beside her bed, lass Be sure to keep your head bowed until she addresses you.” I heard my Pet move across the room to take her place as the door closed again. Foregoing clothing, I strode confidently into the room.

“Pet,” I murmured. Slowly she raised her head, and the instant blush that colored her cheeks at the sight of my nakedness was enough to make me smirk. I could tell she was fighting the urge to lower her gaze. Running a hand through my still wet hair, I magically dried it in the process.“Come now, rebel, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” I said lowly.

“I – Yes, Mistress,” she stuttered. Her slightly darkened eyes swept over my body, as if in unconscious appraisal, before meeting my gaze and holding it unblinkingly. _Most would apologize for staring at me so blatantly… Even in an embarrassed state, she refuses to submit._

“I have court today, Pet,” I informed her. “You will dress me. I also expect you to accompany me.”  

“As you wish, Mistress.” Her tone was resigned, but her ire was still there, quiet and harsh. After the escapade in the forest yesterday, she had been pensive and withdrawn, and while I burned to know her musings, I did not force them from her. I refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was driving me mad with her ever-changing moods. One moment she was alive with passion for her cause and hatred for me, the next dead with indifference. I had never known such a constant emotional shift in my previous slaves. They were as they had always been, simple and obedient and striving for nothing. My Pet…  She was a paradox in every sense of the word.

For my wardrobe, I settled on what was considered my signature look: A black silk dress with protruding shoulders, and a deep purple linen surcoat beneath it. Leather boots, though these were shorter than my riding ones. My Pet’s hands were steady as she worked, warm against my skin. Surprisingly, she did not have to be reprimanded for not knowing which piece of clothing went where. Had Felicia counseled  her? Yes, I was certain the two had developed a kind of kinship as of late, if my maid’s gentle guidance this morning was anything to go by.

The only sign that I was having any effect on my slave was her spiked pulse which I detected with my magic. I felt the roughness at the tops of her palms, beneath her fingers, as she helped me into my surcoat. “Your hands are calloused, rebel,” I stated, noting that every other part of the appendages were smooth. “I take it you are familiar with the sword.”

“Helps to know the craft when your belly is hungry, Mistress,” she replied brusquely. Ah, there it was again, that little rebuttal of her station while still withholding her full anger. I could feel it however, pricking beneath her skin insistently. It was only a matter of time. And oh, the pleasure I would gain!

“Indeed,” I answered in a noncommittal tone, watching her eyes narrow in the looking-glass. She finished her task in silence, and when my left boot was firmly in place, I placed my fingers on  her chin, silently demanding she look up at me. My ringed hand grazed her cheek, and I smirked at her furrowed brow. “It seems you have the capacity to be obedient, Pet. I am pleased.” She looked as though that fact sickened her, and her gaze darkened a bit as she withdrew further into herself.

I snapped the fingers of my free hand, and my face, which had been void of makeup, took on the dark colors which so eloquently matched the dress. A flick of my wrist and my hair was styled, piled high atop my head. “Rise,” I murmured, “It is time to go.” When my Pet got to her feet, I released her chin and waved my hand once more. A white dress appeared on her body, shoulderless and embroidered at the waist with pearls, but it was ripped at the sides, showcasing her cuts from the thorns. The front was cut teasingly low, just enough to see the peak of her breasts, and her hair hung loosely about her shoulders. I licked my lips. Her jaw tightened in response. Leaning forward, I dragged my tongue along the protruding muscle, sucking lightly when I heard the sharp inhale my actions caused. Then, I trailed downward, biting hard on her neck. A pained, (or was it aroused?) gasp was my answer. “Sensitive today, aren’t you, my little slut?” I teased as I pulled away, the glare in her sea-green eyes thrilling me. My teeth marks marred her throat; lust against the starkness of her indifference.

***

“Ah, Lord Percy, welcome.” I greeted the balding middle-aged man cordially, despite inwardly cringing, as I always did, at the man’s grotesque countenance. Small, squinted onyx eyes were set in a round, jowled face that constantly dripped with sweat. A piggish nose that simply sunk into the flesh surrounding it, and a small, pursed mouth. When opened, it stretched into a ghoulish smile that revealed rows of yellowed teeth, set too close together and giving him the appearance of a rat in human form. Still, for all this, he was one of the most well-known nobles in my realm, consistently contributing to my coffers via his plantation. Fat giggled beneath an orange silk coat, and the stench of musk flooded my nose as he bent to kiss my ring.

“Majesty,” he replied, straightening. “I see you have acquired a new _addition_ ,” his eyes flickered to my Pet, who knelt silently at my left side. Her head was bowed beneath the scrutiny, but her body was tense and telling to me. She did not do well under the appraisal of others, and yet the gaze of my entire court was upon her. _Calm yourself, Pet. You will become accustomed to this soon enough._

“Indeed I have. She compliments my Dragon well, does she not?”

“Quite well, Majesty,” he agreed, looking between Ameera, with her golden eyes and ebony skin, and my Pet, with her fair complexion and light hair. “A handsome pair, to be sure. But, what of your wolf? I see she is not present.” At that my eyes narrowed.

“You speak too freely, Percy,” I growled.

“Apologies, My Queen, I meant no offense.” Before my rebel’s arrival, I had a second slave, Tara. She had been exiled on the grounds that she had slept with one of my soldiers, later claiming to have fallen in love with him. The solider in question was dead. I had made her watch his beheading before banishing her. A pity, really, she had been talented, despite her age, and willing to learn. But, one does not become proficient in the ways of lust at the age of seventeen by adhering to only one master, and I had not been her first. I frowned, the thought of her leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

“Be that as it may, I grow tired of these pleasantries, Percy. State your business. Pet, wine.” The blonde rose slowly, fixing her gaze on one of the long wooden tables before her, which was laden with food and drink both. Her steps were forced, but light. She managed not to spill the liquid, and the position of her hands was correct, despite the fact that they were shaking. The quiet grace I had glimpsed inside her was beginning to show itself, albeit begrudgingly. She handed the goblet to me, and I allowed my fingers to trail lightly over her wrist, nodding in approval. With a curt bow, she resumed her position. “Speak, man,” I snapped, irritated at the way Percy’s eyes lingered on my Pet.

“Of – of course, Your Majesty,” he stuttered. “It concerns these ruffians, the Revolution, they call themselves. They have been stealing my goods, the sugar, mostly. What they do with it, I do not know, but they are causing a commotion among my slaves.”

“I know of them. How many did you encounter?”

“Three, My Queen, two men and one woman. Though I fear there are more in number.”

“I’ll ensure my most capable swordsmen are sent forthwith to dispatch them, as well as guard your plantation should more of them appear. Will that suffice?” I asked with a raised brow.

“I believe so, Majesty. You have my sincerest gratitude.” He bowed again, kissing my ring a second time before going to sit at one of the tables and gorge himself while speaking loudly with the other nobles about him. I sipped my wine, listened out of pure boredom to the senseless gossip surrounding me, glanced at my Pet. Feeling my eyes on her, she discreetly raised her head. Her eyes told of nothing.

“My Queen?” I tore my eyes away and looked at the man addressing me. “What is it, Herald?”

“Are you prepared to pass judgment? It is a member of the Revolution, Your Majesty. He is rather…volatile.”

“Do you know of his crime?”

“I was informed he has been killing deer inside our border, Your Majesty.”

I smirked. “Let him in.” He bowed, and nodded to the guards at the door. They swung open to reveal a blue-eyed man dressed in the browns and greens of the forest. A bow and quiver was strapped to his back. He walked with quick, angry steps  to my throne. I noticed that the guards beyond the door, those meant to chain him as with any person who I was required to pass judgment on, lay unconscious on the floor.

“Speak, wretch.”

“I am Robin of Loxley, Witch,” he hissed. My Pet’s head snapped up, green eyes wide with shock. “Emma?” he breathed.  And then he was drawing his bow, knocking an arrow. “Release her!”

I tilted my head, smirking at his brazen tone. “You fool,” I laughed darkly, pulling on my magic as I spoke, “As if I would ever rid myself of such a capable slut!” The arrow flew. I caught it as it sailed toward my heart, encasing it in my magic and turning it back to him, point gleaming dangerously. He knocked a second arrow, let it fly. My Pet, to my surprise, intercepted it, shielding me with her body as she gripped the arrow’s shaft and lowered it.

“Emma?” he questioned again, blinking stupidly.

“We are no better than she if we result to killing, Robin. That is not our way. We fight to defend, not to harm.”

“Indeed, Pet. That may be your way, but it is not mine.” And with that I released the arrow I had been holding, embedding it in the outlaw’s heart.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: To all who follow this story, I apologize profusely for my absence. Life has gotten... difficult, as of late. 
> 
> The updates will be sporadic, and I apologize for that. My disability, (Cerebral Palsy), henders how fast I can write. I hope that doesn't deter you from reading. Please be patient with me, I promise I haven't forgotten about this story, and I do intend to finish it. 
> 
> Enjoy, and as always, please leave a review!

I ignored the collective gasp of the assembled; the quiet murmurings of the outlaw’s foolishness, and the question of whether or not my actions would result in more of the Revolution appearing at my doorstep. I looked at my rebel. She didn’t go to her comrade’s side with the dramatic fashion of a noble heart breaking, but instead stayed where she was, staring at the man’s wide eyes and open, bloody mouth with a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. She trembled, though I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or the effort to keep tears at bay. Her hands were fists in her lap, as white as the dress she wore.

“Graham, prepare the body for incineration. Pet,” our eyes met and held, and I had never in my life seen such a cold, murderous look, not in the least bit fearful. “Wait for me in my chamber.” I said it softly, beneath the chatter of the courtroom. “Escort her, My Dragon, and then you may do as you wish until I call you.” I addressed the crowd: “Court is dismissed. You may all take your leave.” Rising from my throne I walked to the door, stepping over the corpse easily. The gentry and nobles bowed and curtseyed as I passed. Agatha no doubt would have something for my head.

***

I was surprised to find Ameera outside my door. She was still dressed in her golden gown, her hair still done up in golden rings. My Dragon’s eyes were troubled and her teeth sunk into the plump, dark flesh of her bottom lip. I raised a brow in question. “She is in a bad way, Mistress. I did not think it wise to leave her.” As if in answer, I heard the distinct sound of wood crashing to the floor, then the loud, unapologetic curse of my name. Ameera winced as darkness clouded my expression.

“Leave us,” I said tightly, entering my chamber without another word. She stood in the middle of wreckage: my overturned trunk, shattered vases that had once held blooming belladonna, the small bookshelf tipped precariously against the window. “What is the meaning of this, _Pet_?” I seethed, beginning to feel my magic surge and boil in my veins. She eyed me with a red, teary gaze. She looked the perfect image of a caged animal, with her teeth bared in such a way and her hair mused – the veins in her constricting throat a siren’s call to my twitching fingers. “ _Speak_ ,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

“We will not be silenced, _Mistress_. Robin may be dead, but with his death comes the truth: Blood shall be shed – on both sides.” She spoke with a cold certainty, and a hollow, fatalistic look, gleaming with malice, overtook her expression. In a flash she was before me, her throat clutched in my fingers.

“Is that a threat, My Pet?”

“Yes,” she growled.

“Mmm." I relaxed my hand at her neck to draw my nails down the expanse of skin, and then back up again, only to grip at her hair, and force her neck painfully back. “I rather like this side of you, rebel. Should I kill them all, then? Perhaps I should, if this is what you’ll give me.” At that her eyes widened, as if being pulled from a trance, and she shook her head vehemently.

“You inimical bitch,” she murmured, looking away with a flush.

I smirked. “Indeed dear. I never claimed to be otherwise.” And then I felt it; a shifting between us, a cold pricking of my skin as I looked at her. Tears had begun to spill silently from her eyes, and as she stood there, quaking, it was as if she wanted my breast for comfort, and at the same time, wanted to strike me. _You are the damnedest creature, My Pet._ Sighing dramatically, I touched her face. My thumb, the one with the wrapping silver serpent ring, dragged across the wetness of her cheeks, and she looked at me with such wonder I questioned whether my hand had a life of its own.

“Go,” I said with an air of flippancy, releasing her hair,“You are of no use to me like this. Bid your precious Robin farewell, Pet. Do what you must to right yourself – I expect you back by nightfall.” I gripped her chin, “Am I understood?”

A nod, a quiet, sobering “Yes, My Queen.” And then she was gone, the warmth of her skin absent from my fingers like a shiver leaving the spine.  

***

A feeling of agitation settled in me as the day wore on. The outlaw had _threatened_ me; of course I’d killed him! They were fools, all of them; my Pet the biggest of them all. Damn her and her tears, it was her own fault for being so sentimental! But, that look she'd given me – that darkness, eerie and certain in her eyes – it hadn’t belonged. The deadness of that gaze… it had unnerved me, I realized. I was accustomed to her fire, to her open expressions of hatred and her clenched jaw, not… _that._ _Well,_ I thought,  _It appears my little slut has a beast in her, as well._

Setting aside my half-eaten plate, I reached out with my magic and felt for her presence – not hard enough to alert her and bring her to me, but enough to know she was at the body pit. With a wave of my hand, I appeared in the clearing, several yards from the castle and grounds, lest the smell of burning flesh offend my sensibilities and those of the nobles. Cloaking myself from their view, I leaned against a nearby oak and simply watched.

The outlaw’s lifeless body was stretched across the coals of the circular pit, and my Pet was crouched beside him, weeping. Belle stood beside her, a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Emma, I’m sorry.” The brunette’s empathetic words shook lose the hold my slave was keeping on her emotions, for she released a series of  frustrated wails, and buried her face in the foolish man’s tunic. It was not the sort of sound one made when merely grieving, it was the sound one made when the world itself was spitting in one’s face.

_Yes, this is better. This open anger can be dealt with…_

“I should never have stopped that arrow,” she murmured after a time, “Why try to change a heart set in stone? This is my fault.”

 _Why indeed, My Pet._  

“You know that’s not true, Emma. _She’s_ the one who killed him. Even if you had let the second arrow pass, and it had killed her, the people of her court would’ve hanged us. What use can we be to the oppressed if we are dead? You acted out of instinct, and you cannot be faulted for _not_ wanting the Queen’s blood on your hands, when the price would be your life."

“Always the voice of reason,” my Pet chuckled, wiping her eyes. Kissing her fallen comrade’s forehead she whispered: “Rest well, my friend. Your sacrifice will not be in vain – I swear it.” Then, to Belle: “Spar with me, will you? I need to hit something.” Intrigued and still cloaked, I followed them to the sparring grounds.

***

She moved with the grace of a lioness, as if she had been born with a blade in her hand. She was as quick as she was strong, and I watched with growing arousal as beads of sweat began to form on her brow; her eyes alight with fire. Belle, for her part, relied more on speed than strength, blocking my Pet’s blows with a staff. My rebel was becoming frustrated, however, and her movements became harsh and erratic.

_Keep your head, Pet._

The staff landed solidly on her ribs. 

With a cry, she lunged forward, and as the brunette went to parry, my Pet swept her leg. Holding her aching side and breathing hard, she stared down at Belle with something that looked like calm. The beast inside her had quieted.

***

When she came to me again, her gaze held all the resoluteness it had held before the outlaw’s death. Her features were smooth, her manner compliant, and yet I sensed a rigidity in her posture that told me she was awaiting punishment. I had summoned her to my bedchamber, and she had assumed her position at my side, her white dress stained with soot. Now, silence reined, and I simply reclined in my armchair near the opposite window, so the tipped bookshelf didn’t obscure the light and interrupt my reading.

“Pet,” I said at last, my voice firm and unwavering, “You are to be punished. Strip, now, and flatten yourself against the wall, facing away from me. Do not speak.” She rose and did as I bid. I watched as the dress slid down her body, revealing the large bruise on her right side, just under her breast. I watched as the sandals were kicked from her feet. She flinched as the cold stone wall hit her skin. She rested her check against it; head turned away, arms up, hands splayed and legs apart.

Putting my book aside, I magicked a flogger in my left hand and went to her, running the braided leather down her back. “You didn’t think I would let you destroy what is mine without consequence, did you?” I murmured. A small shake of the head. I ran the fingers of my free hand over the bruise, smiling when she hissed. “What’s this?” I asked, pressing harder and enjoying the jolt of pain that rippled through her body, “It appears you were struck, Pet. A shame that the Dark One’s harlot marked you. Shall I punish her, as well?” Her jaw flexed at that, and her eyes closed. “You are _mine_ ,” I hissed in her ear, “My marks shall be the only ones you wear. You will receive forty lashes for the destruction of my property. I expect you to count aloud.”

And she did.

Not once did she beg for me to stop, remaining as stoic as ever. I hadn't expected anything less. Although her breath hitched with pain, the count was said clearly, and when it was done I commanded she go to my bed and lay on her stomach. The salve I kept on my bedside table was magically engineered for healing, and I occasionally used it on Ameera when my Dragon needed tending to. She was silent as I applied a generous layer to her back and rubbed it in, her skin soft beneath my hands. With my free hand, I cupped her sex, smirking at the hitch of her breath, now for an entirely different reason.

“You, my insolent little slut, are entirely too arousing when you’re angry. Does it give you pleasure to be punished, hmm?” I pushed my fingers inside her, set a hard and unforgiving pace. “Do you enjoy making me angry, Pet? Do you enjoy _this_?” She gave a cry as I plunged too deep. “Why do you insist on provoking me, hmm?” My voice was harsh with lust, with anger, with the need to _control_. “Why did you stop him? Why?!” She shuddered violently as she came, and as I withdrew my fingers she whispered:

“Can’t help if I’m dead.” And, upon uttering those words, unconsciousness overtook her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray for a new chapter!

_Fool_ , I thought, looking down at her.  _Who is it you’re trying to save?_   “Your noble inclinations are rather tiring, Pet,” I murmured. “They’ll be the death of you, I’m sure of it.” As if drawn by an invisible force, I reached out to touch her hair, but my mind, as it cleared, halted my hand, and my fingers hovered above her blonde head like half-formed claws. What _was_ this? Too much wine, I reasoned. With a wave of my hand, I dressed her in a simple white robe, and sent her back to the slaves’ quarters.

Sleep refused me, and I, in growing frustration, settled myself in my sitting room by the fire with a book, only to rise and pace moments later. The killing of that damned outlaw would surely bring more of my Pet’s miscreants into my realm. I could kill them; slaughter them like pigs, but my Pet… Her disposition towards me would be irreversible at that point, and her role would suffer for it. Granted she was uncouth and vexatious, but, despite her fighting nature, she followed orders. And I could not discount that her fire and biting tongue only served to ignite my groin as well as my spirit. No, I mustn’t kill the rats she so passionately declared her family, but I must stay within the law; I must always have the upper hand. It would not do for a Queen to appear weak. They would not go unpunished… I would deal with them another way, I decided, and if those in her fellowship suffered detrimental losses while succumbing to the hand of the law, then so be it. If they survived, they would be released with a final warning. Should they return, I’d order their beheading. My Pet could not fault me then.

 _But why_ , I thought, turning again to my star-lit window, _Should her opinion of me matter?_ My frown deepened at that. The blonde was talented in the ways of lust, and possessed a wit and beauty that surpassed most, but she was a slave, at the end. A slave that brought challenge, boldly and unapologetically, to the forefront of my senses. I valued her for the spark she brought to my life, for the boredom she so adequately pushed aside, that was all. Nodding to myself, I conjured up a mug of steaming tea, downed it, and tossed restlessly in my bed until first light.

***

The knock on my bath chamber door set my teeth on edge. Ameera’s strong hands stilled on my naked shoulders, the knots instantly returning under her calloused fingers. “Enter!” I barked. Graham peered from behind the heavy wooden door, looking pale and trepidatious. “What is it?” I demanded upon seeing his expression.

“Lord Percy, My Queen. It appears his plantation is under attack. The Revolution has returned, and the reinforcements you sent are quickly falling.” I scowled as my Pet’s words came back to me: _There will be blood, on both sides._

“How many?”

“The runner-boy claimed fifteen. They are all still standing, last I knew. It also appears some peasants have joined in the fray as well, Majesty. Luka tells me he saw axes and pitchforks among your blades.” I rose from the tub, not missing the way my Lieutenant’s face colored as water cascaded in rivets down my body. I raised a brow and he, with the obedient sheepishness of a virgin, turned away as Ameera began drying me.

“Prepare my horse. And send in the new recruits, Lieutenant. I will not lose seasoned men and women to this… _skirmish_. It is time they see blood.” The beast in me began to awaken at the thought of battle, and though my face remained etched with anger, I thrummed with darkness, and the chilling sensation one experiences when blood-lust assaults the mind. 

"Aye, Your Majesty,” Graham murmured gravely, closing the door.

My Dragon’s hands made quick work of drying my legs, spurred, I thought, by the sadistic gleam she could see forming in my eyes. “Ameera, bring me my rebel. See that she is outfitted for battle.” My voice was quiet, calm, but held an eeriness to it, which I identified by the shift in her golden gaze.

“Yes, Mistress,” she said, her deep voice thick with understanding.

I dressed in a red silk jacket – the protruding shoulders giving me an aura of strength I was fond of – and with that my regular leathers, as well as my gloves. My hair was done simply, swept to the side and left hanging, and my rapier was secured at my hip. The idea of bathing its tip in blood made my lips twitch.

When my Pet came to me, it was with stones in her eyes. Her hair was tied, free of her neck, and she wore a crisp white tunic, over-laid with a forest-green vest that, even in her state of barely suppressed anger, served to accentuate her emerald gaze. A long sword was secured to her hip by a worn brown leather belt. I wanted her, and suddenly my body alerted me to the fact that it had been too long since I’d felt that gloriously fiery tongue. She must have seen the look in my eyes, because her jaw tensed.

“Pet,” I murmured in greeting.

“Mistress.” Her eyes strayed to my rapier, to the serpent hilt with its gleaming ruby eye.

“You will ride with me. It is time we put those calloused hands of yours to use.”

A curt nod.“As you wish.”

*** 

The clang of steel and shouts could be heard a mile off. My rebel tense as we neared; all but throwing herself off of Arion’s back, drawing her sword as she ran towards a fallen peasant who was about to lose his life to one of my soldiers. “Pet!” I called angrily, but my voice was lost among the chaos of blades. Dismounting, I smacked my horse’s rump, and he took to the forest, clear of the fight.

“Majesty!” Daven’s gravelly voice reached me before he did, a blur of long gray hair and black chainmail as he came running.

“Report,” I demanded.

“Percy lives, Your Majesty, but his son has been wounded. Our men protect the house.” I nodded, watching over my Commander’s shoulder as my Pet thrust her sword into the belly of one of my reinforcements, her eyes wild and her teeth bared. “Get to him, should he fall my coffers will suffer.”

“But, Majesty –”

“ _Now_!” I growled. “Do not question me.”

“Aye,” he answered, turning on his heel. Unsheathing my sword, I went into the fray, always keeping an eye on my Pet.  My father had taught me that to be a leader, to be one that stirs loyalty, (even for dark purposes), one must not sit idle. My mother had balked at his teachings, saying that having a sword-savvy daughter was a ludicrous idea. I had sneered, and dreamed of bathing my blade in her blood. I hadn’t, in the end. No, I’d ripped her heart out and crushed it, after my father’s death.

“Die!” A fat farmer was running towards me, beads of sweat pouring off his round face and murderer in his cobalt-blue eyes. I ducked as he swung the pitchfork in his meaty hands, plunging my sword in his gut and tearing until his innards spilled.

“Yes,” I retorted wickedly, smiling as the life drained from him, “Die, indeed.” Walking over his corpse, I moved towards the plantation, but was halted by a cinnamon-skinned woman with a katana.

“If you want to get to Emma, you’ll have to go through me, _witch_ ,” she hissed, taking a warrior’s stance. The cold gleam in my eyes didn’t give her pause. I raised my weapon. We began to circle one another, my blood-lust singing in my veins. If this woman was bent on protecting what was mine, so be it, but she would suffer for it.

My opponent made the first move, unnerved and angry, though her blow was well executed. I parried easily, moving out of reach of the exceptionally long blade. Katanas, though their hilt offered no hand protection, had a phenomenally sharp edge. Side-stepping, I lunged, aiming for her armored side. She was quick on her feet, and although my blade nicked, it did not pierce. Wrapping the fingers of her free hand around my outstretched arm, she poised her weapon, and her sword went through my shoulder, tearing the muscle and tendon. I screamed, but again my voice was lost in the chaos. We were a tangle of feet then, and I felt my magic crackle around me as the pain of my wound intensified. Her eyes widened at that, and I took advantage of her fear, lifting my rapier and bringing it down on her sword arm. It wounded her, and she ripped the katana free of the bloody flesh encasing it. I very nearly fell to my knees. I would have, had my magic not been coursing rapidly through my entire being. Magic and adrenaline were as deadly as any blade. With inhuman speed, I reached forward, squeezing her neck. Releasing my weapon, I crushed her wrist, until the katana fell with a clang to the trodden ground. She sank to her knees, gasping.

“Never. Deny. Me. What. Is. Mine.” Each word followed my fingers wrapping tighter around her throat, until she was limp in my grasp. Letting her fall, I reached my goal at last, sheathing my rapier and walking with pained steps to the plantation’s doorway.

My Pet, Percy, and Daven were just beyond it, all knelt over the prone figure of a too-pale youth.“Majesty!” Daven cried upon seeing my hunched form in the doorway, “You’re wounded!” He was at my side before I could blink, his large rough hand covering my own as it sought to steam the bleeding in my shoulder. My Pet, though she did not cease her attempts to stop the blood pouring from the youth’s stomach, spared me a glance. In that brief moment, her brows furrowed, and something like sympathy flashed in her eyes before she turned back to her charge, whose lips had begun to gray.

“Oh God no,” Percy sobbed, his face countering in anguish as he clutched his only son’s hand. “Not my boy. Please, not my boy.” And my Pet’s hands, which were dyed red, began to glow. A white, pure light began emanating from her palms. I blinked, the pain in my shoulder ebbing and giving away to unconsciousness. I fought it, knowing if I did fall under now this entire operation would be pointless. Blades and shouts still sang in the air like a barbarian’s lullaby. Thomas gasped under my rebel’s hands, and color began to creep into him again. Percy was silent with shock. The boy’s organs began to repair themselves, and when that was done the muscles, tendons and layers of skin followed. I couldn’t see my Pet’s face, only sweat-soaked golden hair and a bloodied back from a single gash. “Bless you,” Percy breathed as the glowing in her palms ceased, “Bless you.”

My Pet nodded, and stood on shaking legs. When she reached me her green eyes unfocused, and I, despite the pain the action caused, caught her before she fell, holding her in my arms in spite of my Commander’s protests.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaacckk!

I gave orders to detain and incapacitate the rebels  _without_ killing them. The cinnamon-skinned woman who dared to raise a sword against me was to be captured and imprisoned until further notice, and Percy’s boy was to be looked after until he roused. My Pet’s head lulled floppily against my chest as I doubled back, and I found myself wondering what had possessed me to throw her in harm’s way. It was true that her anger was an aphrodisiac to me, and that I had only wanted to see her in battle because the idea of her exhibiting the rage she barely kept beneath the surface left my loins aching to such a degree that it was palpable. But now I was in a predicament. Now, I wanted nothing more than to fuck her. My bloodlust still coursed fervently through my veins, screaming to be tended to, and my slave – whose body I coveted – was injured and unresponsive in my arms. I would have to wait to have her until she healed. _That_  thought caused a low growl to issue from my clenched teeth – my own wound was burning furiously.

She had surprised me on the battlefield. She had attacked and killed my men to save peasants from their blades, but it seemed as though she hadn’t wanted to do so. We both found killing necessary, it seemed, but while I took pleasure from it, she took the graveness of lives lost, even if it was to save someone else. _Damn her! And damn her for not telling me she had magic!_   For her to hide such a thing from me was infuriating! It merited severe punishment… unless… she didn’t know she possessed it.

It was a rare thing, not to recognize that part of yourself, as it was by nature so innate, like being left or right-handed. But, I supposed, when one had lived a life such as my Pet’s, one thought more often of food than magic. Light magic was also rare, in that in order for it to come to fruition, the person possessing it must be the product of True Love, the strongest type of magic in all the realms. _How fitting for you, my annoyingly noble slut_ , I thought with a cold smirk. That explained the curious little pull I had felt upon first meeting her; my magic _had_ , in fact, been reacting to hers.

By the time I reached my castle, I was light-headed and frowning. Garrus led Arion to the stables, and Michael took my Pet from my arms with orders to bring her to Belle. My own wound was tended to by Felicia in my bedchamber. As incompetent as she was when it came to magic, her hands were appt at wound care.

I knew it would take time to regain strength in my arm, and patience, which I sorely lacked at the moment. However, I was placated by the fact that I hadn’t lost the limb all together, and that it was my left instead of my dominate right.

“Will there be anything else, Majesty?” Felicia asked as she finished wrapping the bandage about my shoulder, her eyes downcast so as not to take in my naked torso.

“Tea, and something light to eat. Fetch Ameera,” I grumbled, lying back on my duvet with a tired sigh.

Ameera entered moments later. My Dragon knew I was not to be spoken to in this state unless I initiated conversation, as did everyone else in my realm, but nevertheless a soft inquiry slipped passed her tongue. “Are you well, Mistress?” Her voice held concern, which I expected; I gave a snort in return.

“‘Twas only a mercenary’s blade, My Dragon,” I muttered somewhat irritably, pointing to my boots as I spoke, “Do you have so little faith in your Queen that you think I would be beaten by a miscreant?”

"Of course not, Mistress,” she replied, coming forward and kneeling to remove my boots, “I meant only to inquire how you received the wound.” I recounted the tale as she tended to me, wincing a bit when she helped me upright to ease me back onto the pillows. “You protected the rebel, My Queen? Despite the fact that she disobeyed you by running into the fray?”

“I commanded her to fight, and fight she did. Quite a spectacle,” I smirked, then frowned. “It is a pity she was injured; she made a rather arousing picture.”

“You favor her.”

“She’s valuable, My Dragon. As you are.”

Ameera nodded, and though she hid it well, I could see a flicker of disappointment in her golden eyes. I beckoned her closer with a crook of my finger. “Jealousy doesn’t become you,” I murmured in her ear, running my tongue along the shell, “I wish that look to stay from your gaze, am I understood?”

“Yes. Apologies, My Queen.”

I placed a long kiss where neck met shoulder, nipping before pulling back and resting fully on the pillows. “Now, see about my rebel, and report back to me.”

“As you wish, Mistress.”

Just as Ameera was leaving, Felicia knocked once, timidly, and I gruffly bade her enter. She placed a platter of fruit and a bowl of light-colored broth on my end table, along with a mug of tea. "Is this to your liking, Mistress?”

“It will suffice. You are dismissed.” I meant to eat, but as soon as my bedchamber door thudded closed, so did my eyelids, and I was lost to darkness.

***

The feeling of a damp cloth being gently swept across my forehead roused me, and I instinctively gripped at the hovering wrist. “Rest easy, Mistress. It’s only me.” I opened my eyes at the sound of my Dragon’s voice. She let her lips hedge on a smile. “You have a fever, My Queen. The blade you were struck with caused rampant infection. The woman who wounded you has been captured and awaits your judgment. She refuses to speak. You’ve been unconscious for one full day, and half of this one. I am glad to see you awake.” I frowned. My head felt as if it was spinning on my shoulders and my stomach twisted itself violently. _Everything_ burned.

I swallowed. “Water.” She nodded and elevated me till I rested comfortably. I hissed at the warmth of her skin. When ill, my magic enhanced every stimuli tenfold, trying to repair inner damage and yet remain usable. She handed me a mug and I drank greedily, desperate to ease the desert in my throat. “…Where is she?” I rasped, handing the cup back.

Ameera looked at me knowingly.“In the slaves’ quarters, Mistress. She’s... tired, paler than before; anxious.” I raised a brow. “She believes you’re angry with her, for saving Percy’s lad… And for her magic.” I shook my head, tried to clear the dizziness. Why wouldn’t the damn room stop _moving_?

“Bring her to me.”

“Mistress?”

“ _Now._ ” She bowed her head, stood from my bed and put the cloth back in the basin. I watched her go with a headache building in my temples.  I _was_ angry, but more so for being ignorant of her magic than the saving of Thomas. The boy would ensure my coffers stayed full long after his father passed. Shutting my eyes, I let out a frustrated breath. The blonde baffled and angered me all at once. It was her seemingly never-ending _sympathy_. I remembered the look she’d spared me, the conflict in her eyes; harshness, but unwilling softness beneath....

“Mistress.” Her voice was tight, guarded.

“Pet,” I replied without opening my eyes. “Come here. Sit.” I felt her gaze on me as she moved, wary; heard the bed creak as she sat. “Ameera tells me you think me angry with you,” I said, keeping my voice level but low. “She is correct.” I opened my eyes, looked at her fully. Ameera had been right; she looked as drained as I felt.“I do not like secrets. Why did you hide your magical prowess from me?”

“I didn’t _hide_ anything,” she said with an indignant glare. “I don’t _hide_.” I was torn between smirking and scoffing. I opted for the lather, which only served to light that intoxicating fire in her eyes. “I didn’t know. Punish me if you wish, but I’m telling the truth.” And I could tell she was. _Damn her._

“You will not be punished. You answer on pain of torture. Only an idiot would lie.” She nodded, though confusion stayed on her face. “See that I am not wrong in my assumption of you, rebel.”

“And the men I killed?”

“I commanded you to fight; I cannot punish you for following an order. My soldiers require fresh blood, regardless. You _will_ however, be a mandatory presence when justice is dealt to the woman who wounded me.” At that her eyes strayed  to the bandages, already soiled with red.

“What happened?” Though it was a question, her voice remained passive.

“One of yours decided to challenge me. Fortunately,” I sneered, “It is she who will lose in the end.” She paled at my words. I smirked, reached forward and wrapped my fingers around her nape. “Don’t worry, my little slut. She will be released at the end of her punishment… if she survives it.”

My rebel’s hands were fists at her sides. “I _told_ them never to compromise themselves for me!” she hissed through her teeth, pulling away from my touch.

“It seems they heed no warning,” I muttered, watching as her magic began to manifest in waves above her skin, white mixing with red. Her teeth started to grind, and that wild, caged animal look started to enter her gaze again. Her throat constricted deliciously. “Calm yourself, Pet,” I demanded firmly. She closed her eyes against my tone, and I watched as she tried to control her breathing. When she looked at me again, the mask was back in place, and her magic had dissipated. I touched her cheek. “You’re feverish. Has the unlocking of your magic taken so much from you?” At her nod my frown deepened. “Show me your back.” The loose-fitting white tunic was discarded without comment or biting look. The wound on her back had completely healed, but as I traced where the mark had been, her skin erupted in goose-flesh beneath my fingers, causing a self-satisfied smile that she couldn’t see to pull rather insistently at my mouth. Enjoying her reaction, I wordlessly leaned forward, placing my lips  where my hand had been. I felt the tremor in her spine. She remained silent, however, and I could almost feel her jutting jaw clenching in frustration.

Pulling back, I leaned again against the pillows. “I will not have you weak in the understanding of your own body, Pet. It is unprecedented, I know, but you will learn. You must utilize what you’ve been given, else your magic will destroy you if not channeled properly. Am I understood?”

Pale eyes found and held mine. “Yes, Mistress. Who is to teach me?”

“I will find someone suitable in time,” I told her. Another nod. “Go now,” I murmured, taking in her clammy complexion and tired gaze, “Rest. Come to me when you’re well again.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

***

The next few days were uneventful, as I kept to either my bed or study. Daven informed me of the skirmish’s aftermath on the day before I was to resume my duties. He said the Revolution was not yet dealt with, that he feared they would return, despite being beaten. “They are fools if they return. Ensure the guard on Percy’s plantation is doubled, and inform the men that if the rats begin to fester yet again, I’ll offer a reward for their impudent heads.”

“Aye, Majesty,” my Captain muttered.

As the door to my study thudded closed behind him, I pulled on the magic embedded in my Pet’s brand, and waited. Over the course of my recovery, I  had wondered who I would employ to teach her the workings of light magic. I would draw up a missive and send it to Agrabah, I decided, as their culture centered around healing. When she knocked and entered, the frown I was wearing ebbed to a small furrowing of my brow. “Mistress?”

“Rebel,” I said slowly. “Tell me, why did you save the boy? You did it assuming you would be punished, and yet you did it anyway.”

“Compassion, My Queen. No other reason. Any punishment I receive I will take, but I will not apologize for saving that boy’s life.” Her back straightened as she said this, and I saw again her disquiet, her anger.

I smirked. “Such a martyr you are, my Pet,” I chuckled. “It’s just as well,” I said flippantly, “Your annoyingly habitual nobleness saved a sizable portion of my coffers.” She said nothing in response. I stood from my chair and came round to the front of my desk. “Come here.” I tugged at her hip once she was close enough, and we stood breast to breast. “I’ve missed that sharp tongue of yours, my insolent little slut,” I murmured lowly in her ear before kissing the crook of her neck. Again she said nothing. I sucked heavily on her pulse-point, smiling as I received a sharp exhalation of breath and the jump of her pulse under my lips. My hands wandered from her hips to her breasts, kneading them. She stiffened. I pulled back and held her eyes. “I know this feels good to you, Pet,” I whispered lustfully, “Must you insist on fighting me?”

She bit her lip, glared at me. I squeezed harder on her breasts, and the whimper I received went right to my core. Taking her mouth in a bruising kiss, I swallowed the muffles and turned them into moans as my tongue plundered her mouth. Surprisingly, she met mine, but I knew from the force behind it anger was the driving force, not pleasure.

“Go to my bed,” I instructed when I pulled back for breath, “I’m going to take you, rebel… _Hard_.” Something flickered in her eyes, but was gone before I could catch it. I watched, rooted to the floor as she began to remove her clothes. It wasn’t done with the intention to seduce. It was done with the practicality of a body slave, and for a reason I didn’t understand, that irritated me. Following her into my bedchamber, I waited as she situated herself, marveling silently at how _enticing_ she was. With a wave of my hand, my dress disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke, and I, as I had so missed doing, crawled between her legs. Meeting her lips again, I laid myself flat against her, enjoying the feel of her under me. My right hand teased her sex, viciously rubbing at her clit for the sake of seeing her squirm. “ _Look_ at me,” I demanded hoarsely, wanting to see the forest in her eyes darken to an abyss as lust and anger unabashedly took over. There was something so… _primal_ , so _satisfying_ in taking this woman,  a woman who drove me to the point of insanity and yet I craved her indefinitely.

“So wet,” I moaned as my fingers found her entrance, “Such a good fuck, my little slut.” Her fingers gripped at my shoulders. I smirked, bent my head to nip at her breast, to pull at the rosy tip with my teeth. She whimpered, and I knew she was ashamed of her body’s reaction to me. I raised my head and looked at her, picking up speed inside her. “It does you no good to fight this, My Pet,” I said in a shaky voice laden with desire, nearly whimpering myself at the tightness around my fingers, “I always get what I want.” Her eyes squeezed shut when I hit the deepest part of her, and I smiled triumphantly. “Look at your Queen, rebel,” I moaned, “I want to see you come.” She was moaning now, clawing desperately at my bed sheets as I fucked her, as her traitorous hips came up to meet the thrusts of my hand. “Yesss,” I hissed as she came, shaking violently. Her eyes had stayed on mine. “Good girl."

I watched her with hooded eyes as I licked her essence clean from my fingers. “I want that impish mouth of yours, Pet..." I leaned in and growled coquettishly  in her ear: " _Now..."_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Lingchi - A brutal knife-torture method developed by the Chinese. It was also known as "death by a thousand cuts" and consisted of delivering tiny, non-deadly cuts to the body of the victim, and then proceeding to strip the previously wounded flesh from the body in handfuls. After, the limbs were amputated, and lastly, a killing blow to the heart or throat. 
> 
> Regina does not use this method, though it is mentioned.

“The woman who raised a sword to you – her name is Mulan, My Queen,” Graham informed me as I soaked in my bath the next morning.

I eyed him. “How did you get her to speak?”

“I threatened to make her a true mute, if she did not give her name. It turns out she too values her insolent tongue, just as your Pet does.”

“You think them similar in character?” He nodded. I felt the beginnings of a wicked smile. “Then punishing her will be satisfying indeed.” I had woken up frustrated, despite the rutting I’d given my Pet the previous night. _She_ was the mouse in this little game of ours, and _I_ was the cat. And while her fire was intoxicating – her sharpness and resoluteness – her reluctance to be in my bed was now becoming exasperating on a level that I had never experienced. Antagonization and one-upmanship seemed to be the only ways in which we could communicate. Why couldn’t she be more like Ameera? Eager for my touch instead of simply _reacting_ to it? _Why_ did she insist on provoking me? I gritted my teeth; felt my fingers turn to claws as I gripped the edge of the tub. _Fucking emerald-eyed freedom fighter._

“Majesty?” I gave him a dark look. He swallowed. “Have you decided on a method? She’s been readied for punishment, as you requested.”

I thought for a moment. “Has she been stripped, as well?”

“Yes, My Queen.”

“Knives. Daven is familiar with the practice, if I recall?”

“Yes, Majesty. The Captain is indeed proficient in the method." He shifted as he spoke, and although he tried to steady his features, I could see the eternal wince in his eyes. A knifing was a particularly brutal sentence, and could be lethal by the method of _Lingchi_ , but I had vowed to myself only to give warning in the form of physical pain, not to kill outright.

“Good. Have him ready and waiting. I shall be there shortly.”

“Majesty,” he saluted, and left me to my thoughts. Shutting my eyes, I thought of my Pet again. I thought of the strong muscles in her back, how they’d  bunched and tensed when she’d turned from my bed last night, stoic as ever upon dismissal. I thought of the anger I knew I’d find in her eyes, when her comrade would suffer at my hands. Sighing, I rose from the tub, convinced there would be no pleasing her. I froze mid-stride to my bedchamber. _Pleasing her?!_  I shook my head and continued to march into the adjacent room, ignoring the worrisome path my thoughts had taken.

As I dressed, I summoned Ameera. “Fetch the rebel, My Dragon,” I muttered distractedly, not turning to her as I spoke. “See that she is present for the punishment.”

“Yes, My Queen,” she replied with flat submission, lacking her usual amicable tone when addressing me. I hadn’t had Ameera in my bed since I’d been wounded, and she undoubtedly perceived that as favoritism.

I sighed, studied her reflection in my looking glass. “You are to be present as well.”

Golden eyes met and held mine. “As you wish, Mistress.”

*** 

An onyx gaze settled on me as I neared the raised platform in the punishment yard. Unlike my Pet’s punishment, this one was to be private, as I did not want to risk a repeat of an _interruption_. Mulan’s bronze chest heaved, and her eyes narrowed as I reached forward, palming her left breast. I laughed at her gritted teeth. “My, how the mighty have fallen. You have committed the utmost grievance against me with those hands of yours, _warrior_ ,” I spat. “I find it only fair that I take them away as retribution.” Fear leaked into her expression; I leered in response. Looking away from her, I met my Dragon’s gaze, which was unyielding and calm, while my Pet’s, in comparison, held fire. I turned back to my captive. “If you survive this, you miserable bitch, you will be freed. Should you attempt to return with the intention of _rescuing_ your –” I glanced at my Pet – “Illustrious leader… I will have your head. Do you understand?”

Mulan only glared. I smirked. Graham had been right; my Pet and this impertinent stranger were indeed cut from the same cloth. “Captain,” I called to Daven standing a respectable distance away, readied with four daggers in his hand, “Come. Deal with this _rat_.” He nodded and stepped forward as I stepped back, a sardonic twitch at the edge of my lips. “Two to her writs and two to her hands,” I instructed, watching as my Pet flinched at my words. The first knife was driven quickly into her bound right wrist, and her cry of agony echoed off the stone walls. As the second blow was about to landed to the soft flesh of her open palm, I held up my hand, halting him. “Wait a bit, Captain, else the pain from the first knife will carry her through the second,” I sneered. “And what fun would that be?”

“Understood, Majesty,” he replied. I watched the woman’s erratic breathing, her trembling legs trying to keep her upright, the way the blood ran down her outstretched arm, dark and sinister against the brown of her skin. It was a satisfying sight. Daven waited thirty seconds before piercing her palm, and the pain that contorted her face was fresh. I smiled. My Captain’s face remained carefully blank. He had seen many horrors in his time, and he followed my orders with an accuracy only those who had seen the disadvantage of emotions knew.

My Pet’s eyes fluctuated between extremes: Tenderness, pity as she looked at her comrade and contempt as she looked at me. There was something else, too, some underlying, questioning thing. Our gazes met and held when she felt me studying her. I arched a brow at her, as if to say: _Be grateful she isn’t swinging_. She flexed her jaw and fisted her hands in response; turned back to Mulan. The warrior surprisingly did not lose consciousness until after the knifing was over, her body finally going slack as adrenaline ebbed. I gave a curt nod, and watched as Daven pulled the daggers free from the woman’s flesh. As he unbound her writs, my Pet lunged forward and gathered the limp body in her arms, to catch her before she fell.  I glared at her. She glared back.

“Captain,” I ordered tightly, “Take the bitch and bound her wounds. Do _not_ treat them. Once she is conscious, get her the hell out of my castle.”

“Yes, Majesty,” he said, taking her from my Pet’s grasp. My rebel watched as he carried her off, her back turned to me and her shoulders tense. Ameera was observing us quietly, eyes wary and mouth tight.

“Ameera, you are dismissed.” My Dragon slipped away soundlessly, knowing not to object to the harshness in my tone. I stared at my Pet’s back, how it was trembling with barely suppressed rage. “Look at me,” I demanded. She refused to turn. “ _Now_ , peasant!” She whirled, eyes blazing, and it was the sight of her anger that tripled mine. I crossed the blood-slick platform and backhanded her so hard her knees gave way and her lip split. She laid there touching her bleeding lip, looking at me with scalding, unfettered hatred. I crouched in front of her, gripped her hair in a white-knuckled fist. “Why do you look at me like that?” I hissed. “Are you truly that ungrateful? She is alive, is she not?” No reply. “ _Speak!_ ” I barked, “Or so help me your punishment for undermining me in front of my Captain will leave you broken beyond repair!”

“Mulan might as well be dead, _My Queen_ ,” she gritted out. “What use is a warrior without her hands?!”

“You would have me do nothing?!” I laughed, “You know nothing of justice, you infuriating, miserable, strong-willed _cretin_!”

“You call maiming a woman who was trying to _protect_ me justice?!”

“You are my _property_ , Pet. Protection from me is null and void.”

At that she seemed to deflate, to simply give in to the tiredness she felt. She closed her eyes, sighed. My hand relaxed in her hair. When she met my gaze again, her expression held the same mask-like countenance I was familiar with. “How the hell did you get like this?” I felt it again; the shift between us, just like I had when I’d brushed a tear from her cheek. The more she looked at me, the more her eyes turned questioning once more. “What _happened_ to you?” she whispered.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with, Pet,” I murmured, rising. “Go. I will call for you when I am ready to give you your punishment.” Without waiting for her reply, I waved my hand, and disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke.

 

***

Pushing Arion into a gallop did nothing to clear the images in my head. _One cannot outrun their own mind_ , I thought, _I should know that better than anyone._

 _“Mother, I don’t want to marry the king! I want to be free.”_  I’d said the words with the foolish hope of a seventeen year old girl who still believed in things like free will and true love.

 _“You are a woman, Regina,”_ my mother had said with sternness etched into her features. _“Freedom is not, and will not, be a luxury afforded you.”_

_“Must my sex be the only thing I base my happiness around? Father says –”_

_“I care not what nonsensical dribble your father claims!”_ she’d spat, holding my face harshly in her hand. _“You are to be_ Queen, _Regina! What more could you want?”_

 _“To choose my own path,”_ I’d answered.

A slap had been my answer; a muttering of _“Ungrateful child.”_

 

The night of the wedding, wine made Leopold clumsy and quick-tempered. Gnarled hands and filmy blue eyes and _“Hold still, slut!”_ I’d sobbed. He hadn’t bothered to prepare me. When he came inside me, I’d sobbed all the harder. _“Good for nothing girl! Stop your tears! A Queen does not cry!”_

I’d repeated that in my head. _A Queen does not cry, a Queen does not cry, a Queen does not –_ Daniel’s face as Mother crushed his heart – _Cry._ I had wailed, curled in on myself and ignored the blood and blinding pain between my legs. My _husband_ had said nothing, merely put on his robe and left.

I thought of my Pet’s questioning gaze: _“How the hell did you get like this? What_ happened _to you?”_   _It isn’t her place to know._  I ignored the stinging in my eyes as I pushed Arion harder still.

*** 

When I returned, I summoned Ameera to my bedchamber and fucked her with the phallus, hard and unforgiving against the heavy oak of my door. With her dark body clinging to me, the pale, pink-nippled one was forgettable for a moment, and for that I was grateful. My Dragon seemed pleased that I had chosen her; her hips and rounded ass met my vicious thrusts eagerly, and I was glad for it. She did not shrink from me as my Pet did; she did not look at me with disgust or contempt… She did not think me a monster. “Oh, Mistress!” she moaned, “Harder! Please!” She did not challenge me as my Pet did, she did not question me, and she did not look at me with wonder and silently ask _Why?_

I growled, sunk my teeth into an ebony shoulder, and banished those curious green eyes from my mind with a thrust of my hips.

After dismissing her, I took to my bed, exhausted. Blessedly, my demons allowed me rest.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sorry for the delay, guys. I haven't had power at my house for four days due to a snow storm, but I'm back now. Hope this makes up for the long wait.
> 
> Edit: I am so sorry it took so long!

My Pet did not speak when she entered my study. Her stone eyes just fixed on mine with expectant hardness over the barrier of my desk. “Strip,” I whispered, “Press yourself against the wall… Don’t move.” She did as told, putting her front to the flagstones as she had before, palms flat, fingers splayed and feet apart. I went to her, pressing myself into the soft, yielding flesh of her back. “Don’t you tire of this?” I breathed in her ear, combing golden curls behind it as I did so. “Does forcing my hand excite you, Pet?”

“You’re delusional, _Mistress_ ,” she spat, but tensed as I bit into her shoulder, tasting the salt of her skin.

“And still you continue to insult me!” I growled, stepping away from her and magicking a cat o’ nine-tails in my hand. I ran the leather braided handle down her spine, watched with a sardonic smile as she shivered. “You _will_ learn, my green-eyed slut,” I promised darkly, molding myself to her again, positioning the whip’s handle at her entrance. “I will cover every inch of you; make you completely and utterly _mine_!” The whip’s handle punctuated my last word as it was thrust into her, and the resulting gasp tangled itself with my moan. “Give into me,” I panted, wrapping my free hand around her neck and lightly squeezing. Her hands were fists.

“As if I would ever give in to _you_!” Then, in the form of a hiss: “Why the hell should I?” The question gave me pause. Did the fact that she asked it mean that she had entertained the idea, or was it simply a rebuttal in the form of her usual defiance? I could say, _Because I command it_ , but more than that I _yearned_ for it – in the way that one yearns to have control over fire.

“I am your Queen, Pet,” I breathed against the skin of her neck, picking up the pace of the whip inside her, “And as I told you before – I always get what I want.”

“F–Fuck you,” she moaned through gritted teeth.

I chuckled in her ear: “You already have, my impish little slut. Quite well, I remember." A few more pumps and I watched as her body convulsed, watched as her orgasm made her pliable and empty of threat. “Now,” I murmured, extracting the dripping leather from her and cleansing it with my magic, “There is the matter of your actual punishment… Thirty lashes, rebel. Count.”

Her back was a canvas of lines by the time I finished, red and throbbing much like my temper. Physically sated, but restless just the same. How the girl managed to catapult me from one emotional extreme to the other baffled me, and left me so at odds with myself nothing would calm my temper except riding. Taking a deep breath, I magicked away the whip and conjured a towel, which I used  to wipe at her back. She hissed in response. "Go," I said, "Have Felicia patch you up - The day is yours to do with as you wish." 

She turned unreadable eyes on me and nodded. I watched her leave with something akin to relief - my thoughts could sort themselves again, and the knot at the base of my throbbing head could ease. I did wonder, incidentally, how my Pet spent her days when not in my presence. Did she train in the field? Chatter with the ones in the infirmary? What did she do when there was no body of a foolish outlaw to cry over, no sharp-eyed warrior-bitch to shield? Magicking a gilded mirror into my hand, I sat again in the chair behind my desk, and gave a curt order: “Mirror, show me my Pet.” The glass shimmered like rippling water before giving way to an image of the blonde making her way to the infirmary. Her walk was quick, purposeful, back ram-rod straight.

 _“Here again, Emma?”_ Felicia asked, not sounding the least surprised as she rose from a recruit’s pallet. My Pet gave a rueful smile, but otherwise did not reply and simply situated herself on an empty cot, removing her shift with a wince.

_“Where’s Belle?”_

_“In the kitchens with Agatha. She requested help with the Queen’s dinner seeing as how her girl is bedridden with fever.”_ My rebel simply nodded, and set her jaw as Felicia went to work on her back. She tsked at the sight and broke the moment’s silence. _“The Queen has taken a liking to you, it seems.”_

A scoff. _“She has an odd way of showing it.”_

_“If you would only submit to her–”_

_“No.”_

_“Emma,”_ Felicia’s voice was soft, _“You cannot go on like this. You are favored. Your submission would only please her.”_

_“More than beating me?”_

_“Perhaps…”_

_“Favored,”_ my Pet laughed darkly, _“In what way, Felicia?”_

 _“Don’t you know that a kiss with a lash is the only kind our Queen knows how to give?”_ Both my Pet and I stopped short at that. It was a true insight if I’d ever heard one, I realized, and something I’d never expected the timid woman to pick up on. Perhaps she had more brains in her head than I had originally thought. My Pet shifted, cleared her throat. I bit my lip, watched.

 _“So I’m to enjoy her_ attentions, _am I?”_ The question was bitter, sarcastic.

_“I am not saying to enjoy it. I’m suggesting for the sake of your sanity to give her what she wants.”_

_“I can’t.”_ It was said quietly, tinged with something I couldn’t name. Frustration coursed through me at her denial. _“I’m beginning to understand the reasons behind her actions, dark and_  wrong  _as they are..."_ She frowned contemplatively, _"T_ _hat only serves to confuse and anger me. She’s evil, and yet… There has to be a reason for it, hasn’t there? There must be a reason why she never utters my name, why she’s so cold, why she looks at me like – like I’m nothing and something all at once…”_ She was murmuring now, whispering to the air as Felicia bandaged her. My maid kept quiet, appearing to be lost in her own thoughts. 

 _The_ _damnedest creature,_ I thought, waving my hand over the glass and watching the image fade to black.

***

“Lieutenant,” I greeted, riding up to the stables, “What news?” 

“A woman wishes to join us, Majesty. She has no allegiance with Snow White,” he assured quickly, seeing my face darken. “She hails from DunBroch.”

“That far?” I arched a brow.

“Aye. She assures me she’s proficient in both bow and long sword.”

“I see. And what prompted a foreigner to join my ranks so readily?”

He shrugged. “Word travels far, and she seems the adventurous sort.” I supposed that was reason enough, but Graham did not inform me of potential recruits unless something he considered odd was awry.

“Be that as it may, why inform me of her coming, Lieutenant?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“She… wishes to duel you, Majesty. It is custom in DunBroch, according to her, to be defeated in combat so that she might know she follows a strong leader." I found the idea laughable, and barely suppressed my hardy chuckle. Such gall foreigners possessed!

"Inform her I shall select a champion – that will have to sate her enough.” I considered briefly commanding my Pet to fight, if only to see her piqued, but then remembered her injured back and thought better of it. I sighed. At times like this, I wished she possessed a better understanding of healing magic… _I must find her a tutor; inconvenient tête-à-têtes be damned._

“Yes, Majesty. I’ll have her wait in the training field.”

“Very good. And Lieutenant? Do tell our guest I look forward to watching her fight,” I added with a maniacal gleam in my eyes.

Dismounting, I took Arion’s reins and conjured an apple for him, patting his neck as he ate. After securing him in the stables, I went in search of Ameera, pulling on her brand with my magic. I found her in her room, meditating. “My Queen!” she cried in surprise, jumping slightly as I entered.

“At ease, My Dragon,” I smirked.

“Apologies, Mistress. What may I do for you?”

“A woman wishes to take up my banner; I require you to champion me in battle. It is custom in her land.”

Ameera raised a brow. I could tell she found the notion ludicrous, just as I had. “You think her worthy?”

I shrugged. “I have yet to lay eyes upon her. It will amuse me, if nothing else.” My Dragon simply nodded, the zeal in her countenance diminishing somewhat. “Your Queen requires a task to be done, and she is greeted with this response?” I questioned, feeling my anger flare.

“I am pleased to serve, Mistress. It is only – Would not this task be better suited to your Pet?”

I crossed the bedchamber in four strides, using the riding crop to trace the curve of her cheek. “Do not be so conceited as to think you are above her,” I murmured dangerously. “For you to think otherwise is foolish. You are equals, as I have said. Come. Do not disappoint me.” I said firmly, my voice edging on warning.

“Of course not, My Queen,” she whispered. 

 ***

"Oi! 'Twas beginnin’ to think you had gone back on yer word!” I heard the indignant admonishment directed toward my Dragon and smirked. From where I sat on the east balcony, the one overlooking the training field, I could almost see the frown etched on Ameera’s face.

“Her Majesty always keeps her word.”

The girl’s head, which was a mass of red ringlets, bobbed. “Goot.” I shook my head in amused wonderment – when was the last time someone had associated me with the word good? My Dragon did not reply, but instead took a fighting stance, poising her long sword to strike. “You’re a quiet one, eh?” she shrugged, “Keep yer words, then.”

Ameera raised her head to wait for my signal. “Begin!” I called down; settling back against my chair and watching the spectacle unfold from behind the rim of a goblet filled with apple brandy. The foreigner was quick on her feet, I found, and held her own against my Dragon for the better part of two hours. She did not grow impatient, but met each strike with a parry of her own born from years of practice. It became a test of endurance rather than brute strength, and although I could see Ameera tiring, she stayed consistent, never wavering, undoubtedly wanting to please me given her last blunder.

I found myself wondering what my Pet would think of their sparring tactics. I imagined her kneeling at my side in a transparent dress the color of the sky, one that clung to the slight, delicious curves of her body. Her sharp green eyes would flicker- from me to the scene below us, while my fingers splayed in golden hair. And perhaps I would offer a sip of brandy, only to tip the goblet a bit too far to let the liquid drip down her tantalizingly pale throat… I would lean down; let my tongue glide along her skin, up until I captured her mouth. I would taste her, I would–

_“If you would only submit to her–”_

_“No.”_ Hard. Unwavering. Solid. _Infuriating._ I sighed, shaking the image free. Below me, the redhead was on her back, holding up two fingers and grinning like she’d won. I gave Ameera something that was supposed to resemble a smile. She nodded and smiled back, her face crinkling in honest pride. She helped the foreigner stand.

“Your name, girl?” I asked.

“Merida, Majesty."

“You are skilled; there is no doubt of that. There is a place for you in my ranks, if you desire it.”

“Aye. I, Merida of DunBroch, will join ye.”

“So be it.”


	12. Chapter 12

Ameera knelt at my side, silent and proud as I gave orders that the girl be taken to the barracks and given a proper meal. “You’ve done well.” I placed my left hand on the nape of her sweat-dampened neck, felt the bunching of muscles beneath skin as she looked at me. “A reward is due, My Dragon. What do you wish, hmm?” Her expression tightened slightly, taking on a contemplative frown as she thought.

“I can think of nothing, My Queen,” she murmured at last. “Serving you is reward enough.” I bit back a scoff. There was truth behind her eyes. Ameera had been given a high-ranking position while in Maleficent’s possession, and by extension, had received the same courtesy when given to me. But as I recalled her past – the murmurings in which the Queen of Dragons had divulged her beginnings – my Dragon’s complete and utter subservience was given to a clarity that hadn’t, until that moment, pushed itself to the forefront of my consciousness.

Her mother had died directly after birthing her, and her father, bereft with rage and sadness, had deposited her outside Maleficent’s castle gates in the dead of night. A guard had found her the next morning with a note pinned to her bundle of tattered blankets, which had simply read:

 _She is called Ameera.  
__Dragon-blood flows through her,  
same as the Queen’s.   
__I give her to you;_ _for I cannot look upon her without_ _seeing her mother’s face.  
__God forgive me, and grant them both peace._

 _Ah Regina, you misbegotten Queen of misfits. How easy it is for you to play on a fear you know so well - abandonment._ "I will grant you the use of a favor in way of reward,” I said at length. “You have atoned enough for your earlier insolence.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

I tapped my fingers on the gilded armrest of my chair, stood with restlessness evident in my spine. I was not accustomed to genuine gratitude – the words were uttered if leniency was shown, such had been the case with Garrus, but that had been the result of fear subsiding, of dismemberment being avoided – a far cry from this.“I have things to attend to. I shall see you in the morning, My Dragon.”

“Good night, My Queen.” The underlying tone of sadness mixed with fondness was heard, but ignored.

Tugging slightly on my Pet’s insignia as I moved through the halls, I located her. _Still in the infirmary?_ I frowned. I hadn’t hurt her that badly; she had endured worse, if not by my hands than certainly by her own circumstances.The frown erased itself when I found her, replaced by surprise and then expected annoyance, which made itself known in the slight grinding of my jaw. She knelt beside Hephaestion, a tan-skinned, handsome young man in his twenty-fifth year whom my Captain had proclaimed his successor should he fall in the battle against Snow White.

“Pet,” I said tightly, watching as the cloth atop Hephaestion’s brow was systematically rinsed and replaced. The gentleness of that gesture made my blood boil.

“Mistress,” she replied, standing and wiping gleaming wet hands on her cotton dress.

“Come. You’ll be dining with me tonight.” As soon as I felt her fingers in my outstretched hand, I transported us, leaving behind a cloud of purple.

***

The kiss I gave her was not a kiss, but a rough bruising of lips and clanking of teeth. It was more unpreparedness than my own violence that made her gasp, I surmised. She was beginning to understand me, my silent way of talking, which, more often than not, said more than my tongue ever would. Her fingers found purchase around my biceps, stabilizing as my tongue licked the inside of her mouth. Whether the pants I swallowed were exaltations of air due to exertion or something else entirely was a question that remained frustratingly unanswered, as usual. But her lips, thin and pink and soft against mine, were currently answer enough. I pressed heavily into her, and she, taking the signal for what it was, began to move backwards until her back was pressed to the flagstones of my bedchamber. The little whimper of pain made me smile. Her arms, which now hung limply at her sides, I grabbed by the wrists and raised, my own body undulating, molding to the one I coveted. She squirmed, her lungs undoubtedly burning from the relentlessness of my mouth. I broke the kiss, only to attack her throat with the same frenzied desire to possess.

“You’ve over-exerted yourself, My Pet,” I murmured, my voice coming ragged and husky, “Taking care of that _boy_. Your wounds will be that much slower to heal. But that’s what you do, isn’t it, my pretty little slut?” I paused, sucked hard at the convulsing muscles beneath my lips, grazed them with my teeth.“Tell me, did you find him handsome?” A shake of the head. “No? I find that hard to believe; he was looking at you as though he wanted you. Did you want _him_ , Pet? Did you want him to fuck you?”

“No.” Cracked and dry: “I was only… bringing down his fever. Wanted to –” I sucked on her earlobe – “Help.” The last word was a restrained whimper, which would have been beautiful had it been under different circumstances.

“Help?” I ran my tongue in one long, wet strip from the underside of her ear to her clavicle, reveling in the way her chest expanded as I did so. “Your obtrusively virtuous attitude does not fool me, My Pet,” I breathed, freeing one hand to cup and squeeze her right breast. “You are no better than I – or have you forgotten the men you slaughtered in Percy’s field?” I felt the stir of magic my question caused in her, and felt the throb between my legs increase ten-fold.

“No,” it was quiet, riddled with self-doubt, “It was only to protect the others.”

“Ah, but murder is murder, is it not?”

“No.”

I tsked at her stubbornness, bit harshly on her lip as reprimand. “No what, _slave_?”

“No, _Mistress_ ,” she hissed. “No, it is not the same at all.”

I gave a cruel laugh, pulled away from tempting skin and looked into glaring eyes. “The sooner you accept we are alike, My Pet, the better.”

Her magic flared at this, became a tangible gray thing surrounding her skin.  “I am _nothing_ like you.” A growl of self-righteous denial.

“Oh? And what makes you so certain, hmm? The fact that people simply _tell_ you your cause is just, unlike mine?” I left her breast and cupped her cheek. “Let me tell you a secret,” I whispered, “That isn’t reason enough.”

“No, you’re wrong!” Her hands were fists now, and her magic began to tighten around her; a heavy, panicked shift to the air. 

I trailed my thumb over a quivering lip.“Am I?” She squirmed at the predatory look in my eyes. “Are you so removed from yourself that you cannot grasp your own self-denial? Cannot accept that you, for all your candor and bravado, have darkness inside you?” She was hyperventilating, her magic a coil of misdirected rage around her body. “Pet,” I murmured, “Calm yourself.” But my words fell on deaf ears. With widened, panic-stricken eyes, she wrenched her hands free from my grasp and pushed, blindly, in my direction. Guessing her intent, I easily sidestepped and watched as she fell to her knees, gasping. The magic swirled, a manifestation of anger though the physical reaction was panic. Cracks began to form in the stone walls. I knelt, touched a shuddering back. “Pet.”

“Don’t _touch_ me!” If one could make a sound between a gasp and a yell, that was it. “You’re wrong! I’m nothing like you, _nothing!_ ”

I sighed, irritation coloring my words. “Say what you must to right yourself. You’re of no use to me like this.” 

“I hate you,” she said it haltingly, between desperate lungfuls of air.

I scoffed. “Was that supposed to wound me? You’ll have to do better than that.” And the look she gave me, oh the look she gave me – bitter and volatile and _angry_ , did nothing but make me _want_. When she made no reply, I rose and went to my chair by the fire, content to wait out her panic. Her breathing evened after a time, replaced by quiet sobs, but those too subsided after a fashion. “Go down to the kitchens and fetch dinner,” I spoke to the flames twisting in the hearth, hearing but not seeing her rise.“I’m rather ravenous tonight.”

A resigned, stoic “Yes, My Queen,” met my ears, but I heard the anger and self-reproach all the same.

***

Dawn found me at my dining table, absentmindedly picking at my breakfast while offering my vexatious rebel half of what was on my plate. Eggs, this morning, quartered and salted, along with cod and dark bread. I hadn’t dismissed her last night, but instead commanded she sleep on the soft bear rug beside my bed. She had slept naked, though untouched, and had seemed grateful for it. I felt the soft pull of her lips as she took another piece of cod from my fingers. Though I knew she still bristled at this, (I could tell by the rigidity of her spine), she took what I offered without complaint. Hunger, it seemed for the moment, dulled the sharpness of her tongue.  

A rap at the door announced Ameera.  Instead of baying her enter I simply flicked my wrist, biting into the final half of my egg as I did so.

“Mistress,” she greeted, bowing slightly. Not looking up from my plate, I snapped my fingers and pointed to the right of me. Immediately she came to my side and dropped to her knees.

“Have you eaten, My Dragon?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Rise, take your fill.” She did as I commanded, silently filling a wooden plate before settling herself back on her knees. “I advise you eat heartily. You will need it for the journey ahead of you.” A silent inquiry; a minut widening of the eyes, trying and failing to hide worry. “My Pet possesses magic, as you are aware. It has become apparent that she lacks the necessary skill to harness and direct it. Therefore, I am appointing you, My Dragon, as my envoy. You shall go to Agrabah and find for me a suitable tutor to teach her in the ways of light magic. Inform whoever agrees that they are to be paid handsomely for their cooperation.”

“A-Agrabah, Mistress?” she asked, surprise evident in her voice.

“Yes!” I replied sharply, her wide, stupidly blinking golden eyes doing nothing for my temper. She shrunk at my tone, and I sniffed as composure reasserted itself. “My Pet’s inability to control herself–” I felt her stiffen beside me at that– “Is… Inconvenient. I would see it remedied.”  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the flush that had taken hold of my rebel’s neck and cheeks. It was not anger, but shame. The air was thick with it, radiating from her like a tangible thing. I put my serpent-ringed hand in her hair without thought, only realizing what I’d done upon feeling the softness of it under my palm. “You leave on the morrow. You will travel both by ship and by air. A mirror will be procured for you, so that you may inform me of your whereabouts and successes. Is that clear?”

“Yes, My Queen. By your will it shall be done.”

“I expect your return in a month’s time. Summer Solstice shall soon follow.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Leave us, and prepare,” I ordered, in no mood for wasted words.

Ameera rose gracefully, but as she headed for the door, a voice, soft and shaken called out: “Thank you.” Speechless with shock, she could do nothing but nod and offer a brief flash of white teeth. My Pet returned the nod, though I was sure no teeth made it into her smile. A slight upturn of lips was, undoubtedly, the extent of it. As the door closed, she tensed again, waited for the pull of hair, the backwards snap of her neck. I simply tightened my fist in her hair, sending a small wave of pain through her, and waited. She hissed, but did not distance herself from me, as if to say _Do your worst._

And so we sat, I unyielding and her stuck in her ways.

An eternity seemed to pass. The sun rose slightly against the ornate windows. Outside, the castle had long since come alive with noise; dulled shouts and neighing horses, the clang of steel as drills were practiced. It was a cacophony, drowning and constant in my ears, but I still heard it – a sigh, heavy and deep. Her body followed, no longer able to hold the tension so evident in her shoulders and spine. Her back bowed, and she rested on her heels, indignant but passive.

I ran my hand through her hair, softly. “Good girl,” I murmured.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times in this chapter, because the Queen likes to play head games. 
> 
> Scottish Translations:
> 
> Hurdie - asshole.
> 
> Ceart - Correct.
> 
> Gonae an' give us a nip, brèagha - Go on and give me a kiss, beautiful.
> 
> Wit - What 
> 
> Gràdh - Love (as in sweetheart)
> 
> I dinna unnerstaun - I don't understand

The girl’s eyes were entirely too focused on my Pet’s movements. A teasing flirtation had settled itself in the hitch of her red brow, and I clenched my jaw in response. It had been a little over a fortnight since my Dragon had left. In that time, the foreigner had taken a liking to my Pet, as made evident by their seemingly constant sparring sessions. Over the rim of my goblet, I watched the looking-glass ripple with their images, watched the redhead’s deliberate circling and my rebel's easy side-steps as she lunged. I had had the mirror brought from the dungeons to my drawing room for this very purpose. Much less laborious, I thought, then moving about in an invisibility cloak.

_“Quit yer dancin’, lassie, and make a move!”_

My Pet laughed, full-bodied and carefree, dogged the strike meant for her. _“The point of sparring is to_ avoid _the swings, Merida."_ She was bewitching like this, eyes twinkling with mischief and cheeks red with exertion.

_“Hurdie.”_

_“Pretty sure that was an insult,”_ she smirked.

_"Ceart.”_

_“You’re awfully cocky.”_

_“If ye would shut yer geggy, I wouldn’t have time tae be!”_

I laughed aloud at that; I found the tongue of the foreigner hilarious. Although I never had had reason to venture to DunBroch, I was able to pick up the meaning of her speech, jumbled and thick as it was. My Pet lunged seconds later, the goading making her carelessly bold. Their long-swords came together in a ringing, metallic clash. In strength, they were on almost-equal footing. Both had devoted their lives to the arts of swordplay, differing only in the fact that my Pet had done it for survival, and it showed in her stance, the harshness with which she delivered her blows. Merida’s movements were more fluid, but still she adapted – the sign of a competent fighter – and held her own. The merging of the two styles would be beautiful.

Merida managed to free herself from the bind, and leapt once more. She missed, overcorrecting to straighten herself. Top-heavy, she fell. Pride bloomed in me as I watched my Pet stand over her, grinning. Offering her left hand down to the woman on her back, she flexed her fingers. The redhead took it, but instead of rising to her feet, pulled impishly, causing my Pet to fall atop her.

_“Minx.”_

_“Aye.”_ Her voice was soft when she answered, bushing the golden locks back behind my rebel’s ear. _”Now,”_ she cupped her cheek, her face flushed and her eyes shining, _“_ _Gonae an’ give us a nip, brèagha.”_   My Pet swallowed, searched the girl's face before slowly leaning down and capturing her lips. It was the kind of kiss people wanting to get acquainted with each other's bodies give, filled with nervous anticipation.  

Fury ripped through me, making itself known by the fisting of my hands and the possessive, animalistic growl that seeped through my teeth.  _No, I can use this... The naivety of the girl is nearly tangible..._

 _"Merdia."_  My slave'spale fingers halted the hand palming at her breast,  _"We have to stop."_   

_"Wit?"_

_"The Queen. She isn't fond of... sharing."_

Red brows knitted together.  _"She yer gràdh?"_

_“My what?”_

_“Whit’s the word ye Southerners use?”_ she paused a moment, thinking. _“Yer lover, yer sweethart.”_

 _"No. God, Merida, no. It's just... The Queen'll hurt you if we do this."_ I watched the struggle in her eyes as she tried to explain, watched her fingers glide over the foreigner's spine as she attempted to soothe her. 

_"I dinna unnerstaun. Don't ye care fer meh?"_

She smiled at the girl.  _"I do, yes."_

 _"Then why-?"_ A reluctant shake of the head. I smirked.  _How unnecessarily gentle you can be, my little slut. And yet... you disemboweled Percy's guards without hesitation._ Pulling on her insignia with my magic, I watched her tense. Aside from summoning her once to my bedchamber - to give her the tunic and trousers she was now traipsing around in - I hadn't touched her since the night of her panic.  It kept her on the proverbial edge I loved to keep her on. Waiting. Wondering when I would claim her again. She rose with an apologetic glance, mumbled  _"She's calling me. I have to go,"_ and turned with a shame-flushed face towards the palace. 

_Yes, Pet. Come to me._

_Come to me..._

Arousal building, I busied myself by looking over a coffers report. Since the raid, Percy's donations had tripled in both gold and goods.  

"Mistress," she murmured when she arrived, her voice low. She was unsure of my mood and tread carefully. "You summoned me?" 

I put the scroll aside. "Come, My Pet." She moved silently, kneeling at my feet when she reached me. "No. Stand." I reached for her hips and she straddled my lap. "You smell of the foreigner," I muttered, my hands going under her tunic as I spoke. "You want her, don't you, my green-eyed slut?" I asked, making my voice a sensuous purr. Tweaking a nipple I smiled at her bitten lip. "You want the little bitch to fuck you." I paused, looking into her eyes. I moved the white fabric higher until her breasts were fully exposed. "I'm glad to see you don't attempt to insult me by lying," I breathed, rocking my thigh teasingly against her core. "I've watched you." She moaned as I increased the friction, her hands tight against the back of the chair. I took her left nipple into my mouth, my right hand planting itself firmly on her ass. I moaned around the flesh in my mouth, and simply let her rock against me for a moment before releasing the bud with an obscene pop. "I'll allow it..." I smacked her ass, enjoying the yelp I received. "But tell me, slave - " another pause to suck at her neck - "Who do you belong to?"  

She whimpered. I ran my free hand slowly up between her breasts, letting my nails scratch lightly before removing my mouth from her completely and wrapping my fingers around her neck. When she merely whimpered again, I stilled my thigh, grinning at her frustrated growl. "Such a simple question," I tsked, warring with the drumbeat between my legs, with the lust which commanded that the girl fuck me with that insolent tongue of hers. "Don't you want to come?" I put my mouth to her ear, licking her earlobe. "Don't you want to come in your Queen's lap, hmm?" A violent, helpless nod as she slumped forward, her chin resting on the chair's back. I attacked her neck, biting and sucking, my hands raking up the bare flesh of her back. "Then tell me," I panted, "Say it!" 

"Please... Please, Mistress," she moaned in my ear. I could tell, even through the lust fogging my brain, that she hated this. Hated begging an orgasm from me, and yet her words stoked the fire within me.

"Say it again," I commanded hoarsely, moving my thigh roughly against her and pulling her even tighter against me. "Beg me again, Pet." 

She was moving furiously against me now, all forgotten except for the pleasure building in her. "Please. Please. God,  _please_!"  With a growl, I doubled my efforts and she came, a shuddering, silent, angry mess. 

"Go on," I said after her trembling had subsisted, "Get the girl. Bring her here." Nodding, she stood on shaky legs and straightened herself. I eyed the purple bruise on her neck with satisfaction.  _Mine. Always mine, even if you refuse to say it._

***

In the space of time that I waited, I rid myself of my sodden underthings, (briefly considering relieving myself before deciding against it), and changed from my plum-colored dress to a silken shirt with pearl buttons and black velvet pants with high, imposing leather boots. I thought of how my Pet's gaze had lingered on me when I had taken her to the clearing on horseback, and chuckled. Leaving the shirt open at the collar, I settled against the sofa facing away from the fireplace and magicked an apple into my hand. 

As soon as my Pet reentered, her face flushed. Whether it was because of the orgasm I had just given her, or my appearance, or because of the girl looking over her shoulder at me, I couldn't tell. Perhaps it was all three. With a languid sweep of my arm, I gestured to the sofa opposite me. They sat awkwardly, my rebel's face burning with embarrassment while the redhead's expression remained set but inquisitive.  _Foolish, incompetent girl._ "Am I to assume," I began icily, "That those hailing from DunBroch lack proper respect?" At that her eyes lowered."It's come to my attention that you have carnal fascinations towards my Pet.”

The redhead's lips curved upward. “Aye. She's brèagha.”

“Indeed she is,” I agreed, resting my arms on the back of the couch and turning the apple in my fingers.“It seems you have good taste beneath your crassness, foreigner.” I paused and brought the fruit to my mouth, sinking my teeth into the red flesh. My Pet squirmed, a shadow of a memory flashing in her eyes.

“ _I suppose this makes me your serpent...”_

“So,” I continued, “What say we end this sad little seduction and get to the point, hmm?” I looked at Merdia. “Fuck her. Now. I am to hear or see no more of _this –_ ” I gestured to them, to the redhead's hand on my rebel's knee – “Henceforth. Is that clear?”

“Mistress?” 

I locked eyes with her. “Is this not what you wanted, Pet?” I teased her; the viper with gleaming fangs that reminded the desperate of wanting instead of fear.

“Yes,” she said quietly, shame-faced and beautiful, "Just... Not like this.” Merdia rubbed her thigh.

I smirked. “We seldom have the luxury of _choice_ , my little slut. I know you recognize that.” Her mouth tightened, and her gaze asked that damnable, vexing question: _What happened to you?_

“Get on with it,” I growled. It was all awkward touches and apologetic glances as clothes gave way to skin and lips found soft, shuddering necks. Admittedly they made an arousing picture, but the most pleasing aspect of it all was the embarrassed flush that heated my Pet's flesh. I sat with my thighs apart, one arm lazily draped over the sofa, eyes tracking every movement of the pair in front of me. Blue eyes met and held mine as my rebel's breast was sucked into the redhead's mouth, trying to decide if the borrowed prize would be snatched away before she had her fill of it. I arched a brow and took another bite of the apple. They were on their knees now, my Pet's hand tangled in red locks. Feeling rather than seeing the foreigner's diverted attention, she tugged, and the azure eyes closed again. 

My Pet pushed gently on pale, freckled shoulders and leaned forward. Merdia leaned back and they were a tangle of limbs on black satin. She kissed the girl passionately, brushed aside flaming hair and whispered something in her ear. The redhead groaned in response, nodded, desire making her slender body rigid in anticipation. She crawled up her body, and, as she placed herself on the foreigner's eager mouth, a deep, guttural moan erupted from me. My Pet closed her eyes and began to rock. Lips parted and chest heaving, she squeezed her own breast in tandem with the rhythm beneath her. She moaned wantonly, and an unbidden thought came to me.

_Will you ever sound that way for me? Will I ever pull that from you?_

I shook the unwanted question free and focused on the increasingly erratic movements of hips and the obscene sounds of sucking, of whimpering between the blonde's thighs. “Rebel,” I murmured, voice low and hoarse. “Look at me.” The gaze that met mine made my skin burn and my mouth run dry. I made a show of licking my lips, of pushing the fabric of my shirt aside and raking my nails along my own collarbone. She bit her lip, and I smiled. _Mine_ ,” I mouthed. Another moan, loud and long as the redhead hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Not yet, My Pet.  _Not. Yet._ ” Her hands were straining against the sofa's armrest, body taught and heedful despite itself. Merdia doubled her efforts upon hearing my command, and for a moment we were in a stand-off as my rebel's face twisted in pain, torn between her aching body and the punishment she knew she would receive if she disobeyed me.

“M-M-M,” she gasped.

“Come,” I breathed, my eyes still locked on hers. “Come for me, My Pet. “

“M-M-Mistress! FUCK!” she screamed, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” My breath caught as I watched her unravel in front of me. I hadn't expected that. A passionate cry of the foreigner's name, yes, but not _that_. 

Unable to contain my lust any longer, I stood on shaking legs and, before magicking us both to my bedchamber, told the girl: "You're dismissed."

*** 

When we reappeared, my back was pressed to the wall nearest the door, and my Pet was looking at me with all-black eyes. “Why do you do that?” she hissed, “Why do you have to _look_ at me like that?!”

I took her face in my hands, kissed her roughly. “You were planning on calling the wench's name, hmm?” I asked when I pulled back. At her nod I scoffed. “Were you planning on declaring your love as well, My Pet?” She ground her teeth. I sighed, ran my serpent-ringed thumb over her lips. “I gave you what you wanted, didn't I?” She only glared, so I claimed her mouth again, my hands leaving her face to work on the ties of my trousers. “And now, you will give me what _I_ want, Pet. Be a good little slut and fuck your Queen with that indecent mouth of yours.”

Her nails dug into my bare thighs as she knelt, a muffled _I fucking hate you_ reverberated in my core, the sensation making me moan all the louder. “Yes, just like that! Harder! Yessss, Pet!” My cries echoed off the walls, and in the back of my mind, I knew the foreigner heard them.


End file.
